If  9-3- 


THE  GLOVED  HAND 


THE  GLOVED  HAND 

A  Detective  Story 
BY  BURTON  E.  STEVENSON 


A.  L.  BURT  COMPANY 

Publishers  New  York 

Published    by    arrangement    with    Dodd,    Mead    and    Company 


COPYRIGHT,  1911 
BY  DODD,  MEAD  &  COMPANY 


PRINTED  IN   U.   S.  A. 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I    THE  FALLING  STAR i 

II    A  STRANGE  NEIGHBOUR 10 

III  THE  DRAMA  IN  THE  GARDEN 18 

IV  ENTER  FREDDIE  SWAIN 27 

V    A  CALL  FOR  HELP 39 

VI    THE  SCREAM  IN  THE  NIGHT 52 

VII    THE    TRAGEDY 63 

VIII    A  FRESH  ENIGMA 74 

IX    FIRST  STEPS 88 

X    THE  WHITE  PRIEST  OF  SIVA    . 102 

XI    SWAIN'S   STORY 113 

XII    GUESSES  AT  THE  RIDDLE 125 

XIII  FRANCISCO  SILVA 138 

XIV  THE  FINGER-PRINTS 152 

XV    THE  CHAIN   TIGHTENS 166 

XVI    Miss  VAUGHAN'S   STORY 186 

XVII    THE  VERDICT 201 

XVIII    BUILDING  A  THEORY 216 

XIX    THE  YOGI   CONQUERS 229 

XX    CHECKMATE! 244 

XXI  THE  VISION  IN  THE  CRYSTAL  .......  258 

XXII    THE  SUMMONS 271 

XXIII  DEADLY  PERIL 282 

XXIV  KISMET! 289 

XXV    THE  BLOOD-STAINED  GLOVE 301 

XXVI    THE   MYSTERY  CLEARS 314 

XXVII    THE  END  OF  THE  CASE 334 


2138426 


THE  GLOVED  HAND 


CHAPTER   I 

THE   FALLING   STAR 

I  WAS  genuinely  tired  when  I  got  back  to  the  office, 
that  Wednesday  afternoon,  for  it  had  been  a  try- 
ing day  —  the  last  of  the  series  of  trying  days 
which  had  marked  the  progress  of  the  Minturn 
case;  and  my  feeling  of  depression  was  increased 
by  the  fact  that  our  victory  had  not  been  nearly  so 
complete  as  I  had  hoped  it  would  be.  Besides, 
there  was  the  heat;  always,  during  the  past  ten 
days,  there  had  been  the  heat,  unprecedented  for 
June,  with  the  thermometer  climbing  higher  and 
higher  and  breaking  a  new  record  every  day. 

As  I  threw  off  coat  and  hat  and  dropped  into  the 
chair  before  my  desk,  I  could  see  the  heat-waves 
quivering  up  past  the  open  windows  from  the 
fiery  street  below.  I  turned  away  and  closed  my 
eyes,  and  tried  to  evoke  a  vision  of  white  surf  fall- 
ing upon  the  beach,  of  tall  trees  swaying  in  the 
breeze,  of  a  brook  dropping  gently  between  green 
banks. 

"  Fountains  that   frisk   and   sprinkle 
The  moss  they  overspill; 
Pools  that  the  breezes  crinkle,"     .     .     . 


2  THE    GLOVED   HAND 

and  then  I  stopped,  for  the  door  had  opened.  I 
unclosed  my  eyes  to  see  the  office-boy  gazing  at 
me  in  astonishment.  He  was  a  well-trained  boy, 
and  recovered  himself  in  an  instant. 

1  Your  mail,  sir,"  he  said,  laid  it  at  my  elbow, 
and  went  out. 

I  turned  to  the  letters  with  an  interest  the  re- 
verse of  lively.  The  words  of  Henley's  ballade 
were  still  running  through  my  head  — 

"  Vale-lily   and   periwinkle ; 
Wet  stone-crop  on  the  sill; 
The  look   of  leaves  a-twinkle 
With  windlets,"     .     .     . 

Again  I  stopped,  for  again  the  door  opened, 
and  again  the  office-boy  appeared. 

"  Mr.  Godfrey,  sir,"  he  said,  and  close  upon 
the  words,  Jim  Godfrey  entered,  looking  as  fresh 
and  cool  and  invigorating  as  the  fountains  and 
brooks  and  pools  I  had  been  thinking  of. 

"  How  do  you  do  it,  Godfrey?  "  I  asked,  as  he 
sat  down. 

"  Do  what?  " 

"Keep  so   fit." 

"  By  getting  a  good  sleep  every  night.  Do 
you?" 

I  groaned  as  I  thought  of  the  inferno  I  called 
my  bedroom. 


THE    GLOVED    HAND  3 

"  I  haven't  really  slept  for  a  week,"  I  said. 

"  Well,  you're  going  to  sleep  to-night.  That's 
the  reason  I'm  here.  I  saw  you  in  court  this  af- 
ternoon —  one  glance  was  enough." 

"Yes,"  I  assented;  "one  glance  would  be. 
But  what's  the  proposition?" 

"  I'm  staying  at  a  little  place  I've  leased  for  the 
summer  up  on  the  far  edge  of  the  Bronx.  I'm 
going  to  take  you  up  with  me  to-night  and  I'm  go- 
ing to  keep  you  there  till  Monday.  That  will  give 
you  five  nights'  sleep  and  four  days'  rest.  Don't 
you  think  you  deserve  it?" 

"  Yes,"  I  agreed  with  conviction,  "I  do;  "  and 
I  cast  my  mind  rapidly  over  the  affairs  of  the  of- 
fice. With  the  Minturn  case  ended,  there  was 
really  no  reason  why  I  should  not  take  a  few  days 
off. 

"You'll  come,  then?"  said  Godfrey,  who  had 
been  following  my  thoughts.  "  Don't  be  afraid," 
he  added,  seeing  that  I  still  hesitated.  "  You 
won't  find  it  dull." 

I  looked  at  him,  for  he  was  smiling  slightly  and 
his  eyes  were  very  bright. 

"Won't  I?"   ' 

"  No,"  he  said,  "  for  I've  discovered  certain 
phenomena  in  the  neighbourhood  which  I  think 
will  interest  you." 

When  Godfrey  spoke  in  that  tone,   he  could 


4  THE    GLOVED   HAND 

mean  only  one  thing,  and  my  last  vestige  of  hesi- 
tation vanished. 

"All  right,"  I  said;  "I'll  come." 

"  Good.  I'll  call  for  you  at  the  Marathon 
about  ten-thirty.  That's  the  earliest  I  can  get 
away,"  and  in  another  moment  he  was  gone. 

So  was  my  fatigue,  and  I  turned  with  a  zest  to 
my  letters  and  to  the  arrangements  necessary  for 
a  three  days'  absence.  Then  I  went  up  to  my 
rooms,  put  a  few  things  into  a  suit-case,  got  into 
fresh  clothes,  mounted  to  the  Astor  roof-garden 
for  dinner,  and  a  little  after  ten  was  back  again 
at  the  Marathon.  I  had  Higgins  bring  my  lug- 
gage down,  and  sat  down  in  the  entrance-porch 
to  wait  for  Godfrey. 

Just  across  the  street  gleamed  the  lights  of  the 
police-station  where  he  and  I  had  had  more  than 
one  adventure.  For  Godfrey  was  the  principal 
police  reporter  of  the  Record;  it  was  to  him  that 
journal  owed  those  brilliant  and  glowing  columns 
in  which  the  latest  mystery  was  described  and  dis- 
sected in  a  way  which  was  a  joy  alike  to  the  intel- 
lect and  to  the  artistic  instinct.  For  the  editorial 
policy  of  the  Record,  for  its  attitude  toward  poli- 
tics, Wall  Street,  the  trusts,  "  society,"  I  had  only 
aversion  and  disgust;  but  whenever  the  town  was 
shaken  with  a  great  criminal  mystery,  I  never 
missed  an  issue. 


THE    GLOVED    HAND  5 

Godfrey  and  I  had  been  thrown  together  first 
in  the  Holladay  case,  and  that  was  the  beginning 
of  a  friendship  which  had  strengthened  with  the 
years.  Then  came  his  brilliant  work  in  solving  the 
Marathon  mystery,  in  which  I  had  also  become 
involved.  I  had  appealed  to  him  for  help  in  con- 
nection with  that  affair  at  Elizabeth;  and  he  had 
cleared  up  the  remarkable  circumstances  surround- 
ing the  death  of  my  friend,  Philip  Vantine,  in  the 
affair  of  the  Boule  cabinet.  So  I  had  come  to  turn 
to  him  instinctively  whenever  I  found  myself  con- 
fronting one  of  those  intricate  problems  which 
every  lawyer  has  sometimes  to  untangle. 

Reciprocally,  Godfrey  sometimes  sought  my  as- 
sistance; but,  of  course,  it  was  only  with  a  very 
few  of  his  cases  that  I  had  any  personal  connec- 
tion. The  others  I  had  to  be  content  to  follow, 
as  the  general  public  did,  in  the  columns  of  the 
Record,  certain  that  it  would  be  the  first  to  reach 
the  goal.  Godfrey  had  a  peculiar  advantage 
over  the  other  police  reporters  in  that  he  had 
himself,  years  before,  been  a  member  of  the  de- 
tective force,  and  had  very  carefully  fostered  and 
extended  the  friendships  made  at  that  time.  He 
was  looked  on  rather  as  an  insider,  and  he  was 
always  scrupulously  careful  to  give  the  members 
of  the  force  every  bit  of  credit  they  deserved — • 
sometimes  considerably  more  than  they  deserved. 


6  THE    GLOVED    HAND 

In  consequence,  he  had  the  entree  at  times  when 
other  reporters  were  rigorously  barred. 

It  was  nearly  eleven  o'clock  before  Godfrey  ar- 
rived that  evening,  but  I  was  neither  surprised  nor 
impatient.  I  knew  how  many  and  unexpected 
were  the  demands  upon  his  time;  and  I  always 
found  a  lively  interest  in  watching  the  comings 
and  goings  at  the  station  across  the  way — where, 
alas,  the  entrances  far  exceeded  the  exits!  But 
finally,  a  car  swung  in  from  the  Avenue  at  a  speed 
that  drew  my  eyes,  and  I  saw  that  Godfrey  was 
driving  it. 

"  Jump  in,"  he  said,  pushing  out  his  clutch  and 
pausing  at  the  curb;  and  as  I  grabbed  my  suit- 
case and  sprang  to  the  seat  beside  him,  he  let 
the  clutch  in  again  and  we  were  off.  "  No  time 
to  lose,"  he  added,  as  he  changed  into  high,  and 
turned  up  Seventh  Avenue. 

At  the  park,  he  turned  westward  to  the  Circle, 
and  then  northward  again  out  Amsterdam  Ave- 
nue. There  was  little  traffic,  and  we  were  soon 
skimming  along  at  a  speed  which  made  me  watch 
the  cross-streets  fearfully.  In  a  few  minutes  we 
were  across  the  Harlem  and  running  northward 
along  the  uninteresting  streets  beyond.  At  this  mo- 
ment, it  occurred  to  me  that  Godfrey  was  behav- 
ing singularly  as  though  he  were  hastening  to 
keep  an  appointment;  but  I  judged  it  best  not  to  dis- 


THE    GLOVED    HAND  7 

tract  his  attention  from  the  street  before  us,  and 
restrained  the  question  which  rose  to  my  lips. 

At  last,  the  built-up  portion  of  the  town  was 
left  behind;  we  passed  little  houses  in  little  yards, 
then  meadows  and  gardens  and  strips  of  wood- 
land, with  a  house  only  here  and  there.  We  were 
no  longer  on  a  paved  street,  but  on  a  macadam 
road  —  a  road  apparently  little  used,  for  our 
lamps,  sending  long  streamers  of  light  ahead  of 
us,  disclosed  far  empty  stretches,  without  vehicle 
of  any  kind.  There  was  no  moon,  and  the  stars 
were  half-obscured  by  a  haze  of  cloud,  while 
along  the  horizon  to  the  west,  I  caught  the  oc- 
casional glow  of  distant  lightning. 

And  then  the  sky  was  suddenly  blotted  out, 
and  I  saw  that  we  were  running  along  an  avenue 
of  lofty  trees.  The  road  at  the  left  was  bor- 
dered by  a  high  stone  wall,  evidently  the  boundary 
of  an  important  estate.  We  were  soon  past  this, 
and  I  felt  the  speed  of  the  car  slacken. 

"Hold  tight!"  said  Godfrey,  turned  sharply 
through  an  open  gateway,  and  brought  the  car  to 
a  stop.  Then,  snatching  out  his  watch,  he  leaned 
forward  and  held  it  in  the  glare  of  the  side-lamp. 
"  Five  minutes  to  twelve,"  he  said.  "  We  can 
just  make  it.  Come  on,  Lester." 

He  sprang  from  the  car,  and  I  followed,  realis- 
*  ing  that  this  was  no  time  for  questions. 


8  THE    GLOVED    HAND 

"  This  way,"  he  said,  and  held  out  a  hand  to 
me,  or  I  should  have  lost  him  in  the  darkness. 
We  were  in  a  grove  of  lofty  trees,  and  at  the  foot 
of  one  of  these,  Godfrey  paused.  "  Up  with 
you,"  he  added;  "  and  don't  lose  any  time,"  and 
he  placed  my  hand  upon  the  rung  of  a  ladder. 

Too  amazed  to  open  my  lips,  I  obeyed.  The 
ladder  was  a  long  one,  and,  as  I  went  up  and  up, 
I  could  feel  Godfrey  mounting  after  me.  I  am 
not  expert  at  climbing  ladders,  even  by  daylight, 
and  my  progress  was  not  rapid  enough  to  suit  my 
companion,  for  he  kept  urging  me  on.  But  at 
last,  with  a  breath  of  relief,  I  felt  that  I  had 
reached  the  top. 

"What  now?"  I  asked 

"  Do  you  see  that  big  straight  limb  running  out 
to  your  right?  " 

'  Yes,"  I  said,  for  my  eyes  were  growing  ac- 
customed to  the  darkness. 

"  Sit  down  on  it,  and  hold  on  to  the  ladder." 

I  did  so  somewhat  gingerly,  and  in  a  minute 
Godfrey  was  beside  me. 

"  Now,"  he  said,  in  a  voice  low  and  tense 
with  excitement,  "  look  out,  straight  ahead.  And 
remember  to  hold  on  to  the  ladder." 

I  could  see  the  hazy  mist  of  the  open  sky,  and 
from  the  fitful  light  along  the  horizon,  I  knew 
that  we  were  looking  toward  the  west.  Below  me 


THE    GLOVED    HAND  9 

was  a  mass  of  confused  shadows,  which  I  took  for 
clumps  of  shrubbery. 

Then  I  felt  Godfrey's  hand  close  upon  my  arm. 

"Look!"  he  said. 

For  an  instant,  I  saw  nothing;  then  my  eyes 
caught  what  seemed  to  be  a  new  star  in  the 
heavens;  a  star  bright,  sharp,  steel  blue 

"Why,  it's  moving!"  I  cried. 

He  answered  with  a  pressure  of  the  fingers. 

The  star  was  indeed  moving;  not  rising,  not 
drifting  with  the  breeze,  but  descending,  descend- 
ing slowly,  slowly  ...  I  watched  it  with 
parted  lips,  leaning  forward,  my  eyes  straining  at 
that  falling  light. 

"  Falling  "  is  not  the  word;  nor  is  "  drifting." 
It  did  not  fall  and  it  did  not  drift.  It  deliberately 
descended,  in  a  straight  line,  at  a  regular  speed, 
calmly  and  evenly,  as  though  animated  by  some 
definite  purpose.  Lower  and  lower  it  sank;  then 
it  seemed  to  pause,  to  hover  in  the  air,  and  the  next 
instant  it  burst  into  a  shower  of  sparks  and  van- 
ished. 

And  those  sparks  fell  upon  the  shoulders  of  two 
white-robed  figures,  standing  apparently  in  space, 
their  arms  rigidly  extended,  their  faces  raised 
toward  the  heavens. 


CHAPTER    II 

A   STRANGE   NEIGHBOUR 

MECHANICALLY  I  followed  Godfrey  down  the 
ladder,  and,  guided  by  the  flaring  lights,  made 
my  way  back  to  the  car.  I  climbed  silently  into 
my  seat,  while  Godfrey  started  the  motor.  Then 
we  rolled  slowly  up  the  driveway,  and  stopped 
before  the  door  of  a  house  standing  deep  among 
the  trees. 

:'  Wait  for  me  here  a  minute,"  Godfrey  said, 
and,  when  I  had  got  out,  handed  me  my  suitcase, 
and  then  drove  the  car  on  past  the  house,  no  doubt 
to  its  garage. 

He  was  soon  back,  opened  the  house-door, 
switched  on  the  lights,  and  waved  me  in. 

"  Here  we  are,"  he  said.  "  I'll  show  you  your 
room,"  and  he  led  the  way  up  the  stairs,  open- 
ing a  door  in  the  hall  at  the  top.  ;'  This  is  it,"  he 
added,  and  switched  on  the  lights  here  also. 
"  The  bath-room  is  right  at  the  end  of  the  hall. 
Wash  up,  if  you  need  to,  and  then  come  down,  and 
we  will  have  a  good-night  smoke." 

It  was  a  pleasant  room,  with  the  simplest  of 
furniture.  The  night-breeze  ruffled  the  curtains  at 

10 


THE   GLOVED   HAND  n 

the  windows,  and  filled  the  room  with  the  cool 
odour  of  the  woods  —  how  different  it  was  from 
the  odour  of  dirty  asphalt !  But  I  was  in  no  mood 
to  linger  there  —  I  wanted  an  explanation  of  that 
strange  light  and  of  those  two  white-robed  figures. 
So  I  paused  only  to  open  my  grip,  change  into  a 
lounging-coat,  and  brush  off  the  dust  of  the  jour- 
ney. Then  I  hastened  downstairs. 

Godfrey  met  me  at  the  stair-foot,  and  led  the 
way  into  what  was  evidently  a  lounging-room. 
A  tray  containing  some  cold  meat,  bread  and  but- 
ter, cheese,  and  a  few  other  things,  stood  on  a 
side-table,  and  to  this  Godfrey  added  two  bottles 
of  Bass. 

"  No  doubt  you're  hungry  after  the  ride,"  he 
said.  "  I  know  I  am,"  and  he  opened  the  bottles. 
"  Help  yourself,"  and  he  proceeded  to  make  him- 
self a  sandwich.  "  You  see,  I  live  the  simple  life 
out  here.  I've  got  an  old  couple  to  look  after 
the  place  —  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hargis.  Mrs.  Hargis 
is  an  excellent  cook  —  but  to  ask  her  to  stay  awake 
till  midnight  would  be  fiendish  cruelty.  So  she 
leaves  me  a  lunch  in  the  ice-box,  and  goes  quietly 
off  to  bed.  I'll  give  you  some  berries  for  break- 
fast such  as  you  don't  often  get  in  New  York  — 
and  the  cream  —  wait  till  you  try  it !  Have  a 
cigar?  " 

"  No,"  I  said,  sitting  down  very  content  with 


12  THE    GLOVED    HAND 

the  world,  "  I've  got  my  pipe,"  and  I  proceeded . 
to  fill  up. 

Godfrey  took  down  his  own  pipe  from  the 
mantelshelf  and  sat  down  opposite  me.  A  moment 
later,  two  puffs  of  smoke  circled  toward  the  ceiling. 

"  Now,"  I  said,  looking  at  him,  "  go  ahead  and 
tell  me  about  it." 

Godfrey  watched  a  smoke-ring  whirl  and 
break  before  he  answered. 

"  About  ten  days  ago,"  he  began,  "  just  at  mid- 
night, I  happened  to  glance  out  of  my  bed-room, 
window,  as  I  was  turning  in,  and  caught  a  glimpse 
of  a  queer  light  apparently  sinking  into  the  tree- 
tops.  I  thought  nothing  of  it;  but  two  nights 
later,  at  exactly  the  same  time,  I  saw  it  again.  I 
watched  for  it  the  next  night,  and  again  saw  it 
—  just  for  an  instant,  you  understand,  as  it  formed 
high  in  the  air  and  started  downward.  The  next 
night  I  was  up  a  tree  and  saw  more  of  it;  but  it 
was  not  until  night  before  last  that  I  found  the 
place  from  which  the  whole  spectacle  could  be 
seen.  The  trees  are  pretty  thick  all  around  here, 
and  I  doubt  if  there  is  any  other  place  from 
which  those  two  figures  would  be  visible." 

"Then  there  were  two  figures!  "  I  said,  for  I 
had  begun  to  think  that  my  eyes  had  deceived  me. 

"  There  certainly  were." 

"Standing  in  space?" 


THE    GLOVED    HAND  13 

"  Oh,  no;  standing  on  a  very  substantial  roof." 

"But  what  is  it  all  about?"  I  questioned. 
"  Why  should  that  light  descend  every  midnight? 
What  is  the  light,  anyway?  " 

"  That's  what  I've  brought  you  out  here  to 
find  out.  You've  got  four  clear  days  ahead  of 
you  —  and  I'll  be  at  your  disposal  from  midnight 
on,  if  you  happen  to  need  me." 

"  But  you  must  have  some  sort  of  idea  about 
it,"  I  persisted.  "  At  least  you  know  whose  roof 
those  figures  were  standing  on." 

"  Yes,  I  know  that.  The  roof  belongs  to  a  man 
named  Worthington  Vaughan.  Ever  hear  of 
him?" 

I  shook  my  head. 

"Neither  had  I,"  said  Godfrey,  "up  to  the 
time  I  took  this  place.  Even  yet,  I  don't  know 
very  much.  He's  the  last  of  an  old  family,  who 
made  their  money  in  real  estate,  and  are  sup- 
posed to  have  kept  most  of  it.  He's  a  widower 
with  one  daughter.  His  wife  died  about  ten 
years  ago,  and  since  then  he  has  been  a  sort  of 
recluse,  and  has  the  reputation  of  being  queer. 
He  has  been  abroad  a  good  deal,  and  it  is  only 
during  the  last  year  that  he  has  lived  continu- 
ously at  this  place  next  door,  which  is  called  Elm- 
hurst.  That's  about  all  I've  been  able  to  find  out. 
He  certainly  lives  a  retired  life,  for  his  place  has 


i4  THE    GLOVED    HAND 

a  twelve-foot  wall  around  it,  and  no  visitors  need 
apply." 

"  How  do  you  know?  " 

"  I  tried  to  make  a  neighbourly  call  yesterday, 
and  wasn't  admitted.  Mr.  Vaughan  was  en- 
gaged. Getting  ready  for  his  regular  midnight 
hocus-pocus,  perhaps !  " 

I  took  a  meditative  puff  or  two. 

u/5  it  hocus-pocus,  Godfrey?  "  I  asked,  at  last. 
"  If  it  is,  it's  a  mighty  artistic  piece  of  work." 

"  And  if  it  isn't  hocus-pocus,  what  is  it?  "  God- 
frey retorted.  "A  spiritual  manifestation?" 

I  confess  I  had  no  answer  ready.  Ideas  which 
seem  reasonable  enough  when  put  dimly  to  one- 
self, become  absurd  sometimes  when  definitely 
clothed  with  words. 

;<  There  are  just  two  possibilities,"  Godfrey  went 
on.  "  Either  it's  hocus-pocus,  or  it  isn't.  If  it 
is,  it  is  done  for  some  purpose.  Two  men  don't 
go  out  on  a  roof  every  night  at  midnight  and 
fire  off  a  Roman  candle  and  wave  their  arms 
around,  just  for  the  fun  of  the  thing." 

"  It  wasn't  a  Roman  candle,"  I  pointed  out. 
"  A  Roman  candle  is  visible  when  it's  going  up, 
and  bursts  and  vanishes  at  the  top  of  its  flight. 
That  light  didn't  behave  that  way  at  all.  It 
formed  high  in  the  air,  remained  there  stationary 


THE    GLOVED    HAND  15 

for  a  moment,  gradually  grew  brighter,  and  then 
started  to  descend.  It  didn't  fall,  it  came  down 
slowly,  and  at  an  even  rate  of  speed.  And  it 
didn't  drift  away  before  the  breeze,  as  it  would 
have  done  if  it  had  been  merely  floating  in  the 
air.  It  descended  in  a  straight  line.  It  gave 
me  the  impression  of  moving  as  though  a  will  ac- 
tuated it  —  as  though  it  had  a  distinct  purpose. 
There  was  something  uncanny  about  it !  " 

Godfrey  nodded  thoughtful  agreement. 

"  I  have  felt  that,"  he  said,  "  and  I  admit  that 
the  behaviour  of  the  light  is  extraordinary.  But 
that  doesn't  prove  it  supernatural.  I  don't  be- 
lieve in  the  supernatural.  Especially  I  don't  be- 
lieve that  any  two  mortals  could  arrange  with  the 
heavenly  powers  to  make  a  demonstration  like 
that  every  night  at  midnight  for  their  benefit. 
That's  too  absurd!  " 

"  It  is  absurd,"  I  assented,  "  and  yet  it  isn't 
much  more  absurd  than  to  suppose  that  two  men 
would  go  out  on  the  roof  every  night  to  watch  a 
Roman  candle,  as  you  call  it,  come  down.  Un- 
less, of  course,  they're  lunatics." 

"  No,"  said  Godfrey,  "  I  don't  believe  they're 
lunatics  —  at  least,  not  both  of  them.  I  have  a 
sort  of  theory  about  it;  but  it's  a  pretty  thin  one, 
and  I  want  you  to  do  a  little  investigating  on  your 


16  THE    GLOVED    HAND 

own  account  before  I  tell  you  what  it  is.  It's  time 
we  went  to  bed.  Don't  get  up  in  the  morning  till 
you're  ready  to.  Probably  I'll  not  see  you  till 
night;  I  have  some  work  to  do  that  will  take  me 
off  early.  But  Mrs.  Hargis  will  make  you  com- 
fortable, and  I'll  be  back  in  time  to  join  you  in 
another  look  at  the  Roman  candle !  " 

He  uttered  the  last  words  jestingly,  but  I  could 
see  that  the  jest  was  a  surface  one,  and  that,  at 
heart,  he  was  deeply  serious.  Evidently,  the 
strange  star  had  impressed  him  even  more  than 
it  had  me  —  though  perhaps  in  a  different  man- 
ner. 

I  found  that  it  had  impressed  me  deeply 
enough,  for  I  dreamed  about  it  that  night  — 
dreamed,  and  woke,  only  to  fall  asleep  and  dream 
and  wake  again.  I  do  not  remember  that  I  saw 
any  more  in  the  dream  than  I  had  seen  with  my 
waking  eyes,  but  each  time  I  awoke  trembling  with 
apprehension  and  bathed  in  perspiration.  As  I  lay 
there  the  second  time,  staring  up  into  the  dark- 
ness and  telling  myself  I  was  a  fool,  there  came 
a  sudden  rush  of  wind  among  the  trees  outside; 
then  a  vivid  flash  of  lightning  and  an  instant  rend- 
ing crash  of  thunder,  and  then  a  steady  downpour 
of  rain.  I  could  guess  how  the  gasping  city  wel- 
comed it,  and  I  lay  for  a  long  time  listening  to  it, 
as  it  dripped  from  the  leaves  and  beat  against  the 


THE    GLOVED    HAND  17 

house.  A  delightful  coolness  filled  the  room,  an 
odour  fresh  and  clean;  and  when,  at  last,  with 
nerves  quieted,  I  fell  asleep  again,  it  was  not  to 
awaken  until  the  sun  was  bright  against  my  cur- 
tains. 


CHAPTER    III 

THE  DRAMA  IN  THE  GARDEN 

I  GLANCED  at  my  watch,  as  soon  as  I  was  out 
of  bed,  and  saw  that  it  was  after  ten  o'clock.  All 
the  sleep  I  had  lost  during  the  hot  nights  of  the 
previous  week  had  been  crowded  into  the  last 
nine  hours;  I  felt  like  a  new  man,  and  when,  half 
an  hour  later,  I  ran  downstairs,  it  was  with  such 
an  appetite  for  breakfast  as  I  had  not  known  for 
a  long  time. 

There  was  no  one  in  the  hall,  and  I  stepped 
out  through  the  open  door  to  the  porch  beyond, 
and  stood  looking  about  me.  The  house  was  built 
in  the  midst  of  a  grove  of  beautiful  old  trees, 
some  distance  back  from,  the  road,  of  which  I 
could  catch  only  a  glimpse.  It  was  a  small  house, 
a  story  and  a  half  in  height,  evidently  designed 
only  as  a  summer  residence. 

"  Good  morning,  sir,"  said  a  voice  behind  me, 
and  I  turned  to  find  a  pleasant-faced,  grey-haired 
woman  standing  in  the  doorway. 

"  Good  morning,"  I  responded.  "  I  suppose 
you  are  Mrs.  Hargis?" 

'  Yes,  sir;  and  your  breakfast's  ready." 

18 


THE    GLOVED    HAND  19 

"Has   Mr.   Godfrey  gone?'* 

"  Yes,  sir;  he  left  about  an  hour  ago.  He  was 
afraid  his  machine  would  waken  you." 

"  It  didn't,"  I  said,  as  I  followed  her 
back  along  the  hall.  "  Nothing  short  of  an 
earthquake  would  have  wakened  me  Ah,  this 
is  fine!" 

She  had  shown  me  into  a  pleasant  room,  where 
a  little  table  was  set  near  an  open  window.  It 
made  quite  a  picture,  with  its  white  cloth  and 
shining  dishes  and  plate  of  yellow  butter,  and 
bowl  of  crimson  berries,  and  —  but  I  didn't 
linger  to  admire  it.  I  don't  know  when  I  have 
enjoyed  breakfast  so  much.  Mrs.  Hargis,  after 
bringing  in  the  eggs  and  bacon  and  setting  a  little 
pot  of  steaming  coffee  at  my  elbow,  sensibly  left 
me  alone  to  the  enjoyment  of  it.  Ever  since  that 
morning,  I  have  realised  that,  to  start  the  day 
exactly  right,  a  man  should  breakfast  by  himself, 
amid  just  such  surroundings,  leisurely  and  with- 
out distraction.  A  copy  of  the  morning's  Record 
was  lying  on  the  table,  but  I  did  not  even  open 
it.  I  did  not  care  what  had  happened  in  the  world 
the  day  before ! 

At  last,  ineffably  content,  I  stepped  out  upon 
the  driveway  at  the  side  of  the  house,  and  strolled 
away  among  the  trees.  At  the  end  of  a  few 
minutes,  1  came  to  the  high  stone  wall  which 


20  THE    GLOVED   HAND 

bounded  the  estate  of  the  mysterious  Worthington 
Vaughan,  and  suddenly  the  wish  came  to  me  to  see 
what  lay  behind  it.  Without  much  difficulty,  I 
found  the  tree  with  the  ladder  against  it,  which 
we  had  mounted  the  night  before.  It  was  a  long 
ladder,  even  in  the  daytime,  but  at  last  I  reached 
the  top,  and  settled  myself  on  the  limb  against 
which  it  rested.  Assuring  myself  that  the  leaves 
hid  me  from  any  chance  observer,  I  looked  down 
into  the  grounds  beyond  the  wall. 

There  was  not  much  to  see.  The  grounds  were 
extensive  and  had  evidently  been  laid  out  with 
care,  but  there  was  an  air  of  neglect  about  them, 
as  though  the  attention  they  received  was  careless 
and  inadequate.  The  shrubbery  was  too  dense, 
grass  was  invading  the  walks,  here  and  there  a 
tree  showed  a  dead  limb  or  a  broken  one.  Near 
the  house  was  a  wide  lawn,  designed,  perhaps,  as 
a  tennis-court  or  croquet-ground,  with  rustic  seats 
under  the  trees  at  the  edge. 

About  the  house  itself  was  a  screen  of  magnifi- 
cent elms,  which  doubtless  gave  the  place  its  name, 
and  which  shut  the  house  in  completely.  All  I 
could  see  of  it  was  one  corner  of  the  roof.  This, 
however,  stood  out  clear  against  the  sky,  and  it 
was  here,  evidently,  that  the  mysterious  midnight 
figures  had  been  stationed.  As  I  looked  at  it,  I 
realised  the  truth  of  Godfrey's  remark  that  prob- 


THE    GLOVED    HAND  21 

ably  from  no  other  point  of  vantage  but  just  this 
would  they  be  visible. 

It  did  not  take  me  many  minutes  to  exhaust  the 
interest  of  this  empty  prospect,  more  especially 
since  my  perch  was  anything  but  comfortable,  and 
I  was  just  about  to  descend,  when  two  white-robed 
figures  appeared  at  the  edge  of  the  open  space 
near  the  house  and  walked  slowly  across  it.  I 
settled  back  into  my  place  with  a  tightening  of  in- 
terest which  made  me  forget  its  discomfort,  for 
that  these  were  the  two  star-worshippers  I  did 
not  doubt. 

The  distance  was  so  great  that  their  faces  were 
the  merest  blurs;  but  I  could  see  that  one  leaned 
heavily  upon  the  arm  of  the  other,  as  much,  01 
so  it  seemed  to  me,  for  moral  as  for  physical  sup- 
port. I  could  see,  too,  that  the  hair  of  the  feebler 
man  was  white,  while  that  of  his  companion  was 
jet  black.  The  younger  man's  face  appeared  so 
dark  that  I  suspected  he  wore  a  beard,  and  his 
figure  was  erect  and  vigorous,  in  the  prime  of  life, 
virile  and  full  of  power. 

He  certainly  dominated  the  older  man.  I 
watched  them  attentively,  as  they  paced  back  and 
forth,  and  the  dependence  of  the  one  upon  the 
other  was  very  manifest.  Both  heads  were  bent 
as  though  in  earnest  talk,  and  for  perhaps  half 
an  hour  they  walked  slowly  up  and  down.  Then, 


22  THE    GLOVED   HAND 

at  a  sign  of  fatigue  from  the  older  figure,  the 
other  led  him  to  a  garden-bench,  where  both  sat 
down. 

The  elder*  man,  I  told  myself,  was  no  doubt 
Worthington  Vaughan.  Small  wonder  he  was 
considered  queer  if  he  dressed  habitually  in  a  white 
robe  and  worshipped  the  stars  at  midnight! 
There  was  something  monkish  about  the  habits 
which  he  and  his  companion  wore,  and  the  thought 
flashed  into  my  mind  that  perhaps  they  were  mem- 
bers of  some  religious  order,  or  some  Oriental 
cult  or  priesthood.  And  both  of  them,  I  added 
to  myself,  must  be  a  little  mad! 

As  I  watched,  the  discussion  gradually  grew 
more  animated,  and  the  younger  man,  springing 
to  his  feet,  paced  excitedly  up  and  down,  touching 
his  forehead  with  his  fingers  from  time  to  time, 
and  raising  his  hands  to  heaven,  as  though  call- 
ing it  as  a  witness  to  his  words.  At  last  the  other 
made  a  sign  of  assent,  got  to  his  feet,  bent  his 
head  reverently  as  to  a  spiritual  superior  and 
walked  slowly  away  toward  the  house.  The 
younger  man  stood  gazing  after  him  until  he 
passed  from  sight,  then  resumed  his  rapid  pacing 
up  and  down,  evidently  deeply  moved. 

At  last  from  the  direction  of  the  house  came 
the  flutter  of  a  white  robe.  For  a  moment,  I 
thought  it  was  the  old  man  returning;  then  as  it 


THE    GLOVED    HAND  23 

emerged  fully  from  among  the  trees,  I  saw  that 
it  was  a  woman  —  a  young  woman,  I  guessed,  from 
her  slimness,  and  from  the  mass  of  dark  hair  which 
framed  her  face.  And  then  I  remembered  that 
Godfrey  had  told  me  that  Worthington  Vaughan 
had  a  daughter. 

The  man  was  at  her  side  in  an  instant,  held  out 
his  hand,  and  said  something,  which  caused  her 
to  shrink  away.  She  half-turned,  as  though  to 
flee,  but  the  other  laid  his  hand  upon  her  arm, 
speaking  earnestly,  and,  after  a  moment,  she  per- 
mitted him  to  lead  her  to  a  seat.  He  remained 
standing  before  her,  sometimes  raising  his  hands 
to  heaven,  sometimes  pointing  toward  the  house, 
sometimes  bending  close  above  her,  and  from  time 
to  time  making  that  peculiar  gesture  of  touching 
his  fingers  to  his  forehead,  whose  meaning  I  could 
not  guess.  But  I  could  guess  at  the  torrent  of 
passionate  words  which  poured  from  his  lips,  and 
at  the  eager  light  which  was  in  his  eyes ! 

The  woman  sat  quite  still,  with  bowed  head, 
listening,  but  making  no  sign  either  of  consent  or 
refusal.  Gradually,  the  man  grew  more  confident, 
and  at  last  stooped  to  take  her  hand,  but  she 
drew  it  quickly  away,  and,  raising  her  head,  said 
something  slowly  and  with  emphasis.  He  shook 
his  head  savagely,  then,  after  a  rapid  turn  up 
*  and  down,  seemed  to  agree,  bowed  low  to 


24  THE    GLOVED   HAND 

her,  and  went  rapidly  away  toward  the  house. 
The  woman  sat  for  some  time  where  he  had  left 
her,  her  face  in  her  hands;  then,  with  a  gesture 
of  weariness  and  discouragement,  crossed  the 
lawn  and  disappeared  among  the  trees. 

For  a  long  time  I  sat  there  motionless,  my  eyes 
on  the  spot  where  she  had  disappeared,  trying  to 
understand.  What  was  the  meaning  of  the  scene? 
What  was  it  the  younger  man  had  urged  so  pas- 
sionately upon  her,  but  at  which  she  had  rebelled? 
What  was  it  for  which  he  had  pled  so  earnestly? 
The  obvious  answer  was  that  he  pled  for  her  love, 
that  he  had  urged  her  to  become  his  wife;  but 
the  answer  did  not  satisfy  me.  His  attitude  had 
been  passionate  enough,  but  it  had  scarcely  been 
lover-like.  It  had  more  of  admonition,  of  warn- 
ing, even  of  threat,  than  of  entreaty  in  it.  It  was 
not  the  attitude  of  a  lover  to  his  mistress,  but  of 
a  master  to  his  pupil. 

And  what  had  been  the  answer,  wrung  from, 
her  finally  by  his  insistence  —  the  answer  to  which 
he  had  at  first  violently  dissented,  and  then  re- 
luctantly agreed? 

No  doubt,  if  these  people  had  been  garbed  in 
the  clothes  of  every  day,  I  should  have  felt  at  the 
outset  that  all  this  was  none  of  my  business,  and 
have  crept  down  the  ladder  and  gone  away.  But 
their  strange  dress  gave  to  the  scene  an  air  at 


THE    GLOVED    HAND  25 

once  unreal  and  theatrical,  and  not  for  an  instant 
had  I  felt  myself  an  intruder.  It  was  as  though 
I  were  looking  at  the  rehearsal  of  a  drama  de- 
signed for  the  public  gaze  and  enacted  upon  a 
stage;  or,  more  properly,  a  pantomime,  dim  and 
figurative,  but  most  impressive.  Might  it  not, 
indeed,  be  a  rehearsal  of  some  sort  —  private 
theatricals  —  make-believe?  But  that  scene  at 
jnidnight  —  that  could  not  be  make-believe !  No, 
nor  was  this  scene  in  the  garden.  It  was  in  ear- 
nest—  in  deadliest  earnest;  there  was  about  it 
something  sinister  and  threatening;  and  it  was  the 
realisation  of  this  —  the  realisation  that  there 
was  something  here  not  right,  something  demand- 
ing scrutiny  —  which  kept  me  chained  to  my  un- 
comfortable perch,  minute  after  minute. 

But  nothing  further  happened,  and  I  realised, 
at  last,  that  if  I  was  to  escape  an  agonising  cramp 
in  the  leg,  I  must  get  down.  I  put  my  feet  on 
the  ladder,  and  then  paused  for  a  last  look  about 
the  grounds.  My  eye  was  caught  by  a  flutter  of 
white  among  the  trees.  Someone  was  walking 
along  one  of  the  paths;  in  a  moment,  straining 
forward,  I  saw  it  was  the  woman,  and  that  she 
was  approaching  the  wall. 

And  then,  as  she  came  nearer,  I  saw  that  she 

was  not  a  woman  at  all,  but  a  girl  —  a  girl  of 

*  eighteen  or  twenty,  to  whom  the  flowing  robes 


26  THE    GLOVED    HAND 

gave,  at  a  distance,  the  effect  of  age.  I  caught 
only  a  glimpse  of  her  face  before  it  was  hidden  by 
a  clump  of  shrubbery,  but  that  glimpse  told  me 
that  it  was  a  face  to  set  the  pulses  leaping, 
strained  still  farther  forward,  waiting  until  she 
should  come  into  sight  again.  .  . 

Along  the  path   she   came,   with  the   sunlight 
about  her,  kissing  her  hair,  her  lips,  her  cheeks  - 
and  the  next  instant  her  eyes  were  staring  upwards 

into  mine. 

I  could  not  move.  I  could  only  stare  down 
at  her.  I  saw  the  hot  colour  sweep  across  her  face ; 
I  saw  her  hand  go  to  her  bosom;  I  saw  her  turn 
to  flee.  Then,  to  my  amazement,  she  stopped,  as 
though  arrested  by  a  sudden  thought,  turned 
toward  me  again,  and  raised  her  eyes  deliberately 

to  mine. 

For  fully  a  minute  she  stood  there,  her  gaze 
searching  and  intent,  as  though  she  would  read 
my  soul;  then  her  face  hardened  with  sudden  reso- 
lution. Again  she  put  her  hand  to  her  bosom, 
turned  hastily  toward  the  wall,  and  disappeared 

behind  it. 

The  next  instant,  something  white  came  flying 
over  it,  and  fell  on  the  grass  beneath  my  tree. 
Staring  down  at  it,  I  saw  it  was  a  letter. 


CHAPTER    IV 

ENTER  FREDDIE  SWAIN 

I  FELL,  rather  than  climbed,  down  the  ladder, 
snatched  the  white  missile  from  the  grass,  and  saw 
that  it  was,  indeed,  a  sealed  and  addressed  envel- 
ope. I  had  somehow  expected  that  address  to 
include  either  Godfrey's  name  or  mine;  but  it  did 
neither.  The  envelope  bore  these  words: 

MR.  FREDERIC  SWAIN, 
1010  Fifth  Avenue, 

New  York  City. 
If  not  at  this  address, 
please  try  the  Calumet  Club. 

I  sat  down  on  the  lowest  rung  of  the  ladder, 
whistling  softly  to  myself.  For  Freddie  Swain's 
address  was  no  longer  1010  Fifth  Avenue,  nor 
was  he  to  be  found  in  the  luxurious  rooms  of  the 
Calumet  Club.  In  fact,  it  was  enarly  a  year  since 
he  had  entered  either  place.  For  some  eight 
hours  of  every  week-day,  he  laboured  in  the  law 
offices  of  Royce  &  Lester;  he  slept  in  a  little  room 
on  the  top  floor  of  the  Marathon;  three  hours  of 
every  evening,  Saturdays,  Sundays  and  holidays 

27 


28  THE    GLOVED   HAND 

excepted,  were  spent  at  the  law  school  of  the  Uni- 
versity of  New  York;  and  the  remaining  hours  of 
the  twenty-four  in  haunts  much  less  conspicuous  and 
expensive  than  the  Calumet  Club. 

For  Freddie  Swain  had  taken  one  of  these  tobog- 
gan slides  down  the  hill  of  fortune  which  some- 
times happen  to  the  most  deserving.  His  father, 
old  General  Orlando  Swain,  had,  all  his  life,  put 
up  a  pompous  front  and  was  supposed  to  have 
inherited  a  fortune  from  somewhere;  but,  when 
he  died,  this  edifice  was  found  to  be  all  fagade 
and  no  foundation,  and  Freddie  inherited  nothing 
but  debts.  He  had  been  expensively  educated  for 
a  career  as  an  Ornament  of  Society,  but  he  found 
that  career  cut  short,  for  Society  suddenly  ceased 
to  find  him  ornamental.  I  suppose  there  were  too 
many  marriageable  daughters  about! 

I  am  bound  to  say  that  he  took  the  blow  well. 
Instead  of  attempting  to  cling  to  the  skirts  of 
Society  as  a  vendor  of  champagne  or  an  organiser 
of  fetes  champetres,  he  —  to  use  his  own  words 
—  decided  to  cut  the  whole  show. 

Our  firm  had  been  named  as  the  administrators 
of  the  Swain  estate,  and  when  the  storm  was  over 
and  we  were  sitting  among  the  ruins,  Freddie  ex- 
pressed the  intention  of  going  to  work. 

"What  will  you  do?"  Mr.  Royce  inquired. 
"Ever  had  any  training  in  making  money?" 


THE    GLOVED   HAND  29 

"  No,  only  in  spending  it,"  retorted  Freddie, 
easily.  "  But  I  can  learn.  I  was  thinking  of 
studying  law.  That's  a  good  trade,  isn't  it?  " 

"Splendid!"  assented  Mr.  Royce,  warmly. 
"  And  there  are  always  so  many  openings.  You 
see,  nobody  studies  law  —  lawyers  are  as  scarce 
as  hen's  teeth." 

"  Just  the  same,  I  think  I'll  have  a  try  at  it," 
said  Freddie,  sturdily.  ''  There's  always  room  at 
the  top,  you  know,"  he  added,  with  a  grin.  "  I 
can  go  to  the  night-school  at  the  University,  and 
I  ought  to  be  able  to  earn  enough  to  live  on,  as 
a  clerk  or  something.  I  know  how  to  read  and 
write." 

"  That  will  help,  of  course,"  agreed  Mr.  Royce. 
"  But  I'm  afraid  that,  right  at  first,  anyway,  you 
can  scarcely  hope  to  live  in  the  style  to  which  you 
have  been  accustomed." 

Freddie  turned  on  him  with  fire  in  his  eyes. 

"  Look  here,"  he  said,  "  suppose  you  give  me 
a  job.  I'll  do  my  work  and  earn  my  wages  — 
try  me  and  see." 

There  was  something  in  his  face  that  touched 
me,  and  I  glanced  at  Mr.  Royce.  I  saw  that  his 
gruffness  was  merely  a  mantle  to  cloak  his  real 
feelings;  and  the  result  was  that  Freddie  Swain 
was  set  to  work  as  a  copying-clerk  at  a  salary  of 
fifteen  dollars  a  week.  He  applied  himself  to 


30  THE    GLOVED    HAND 

his  work  with  an  energy  that  surprised  me,  and  I 
learned  that  he  was  taking  the  night-course  at  the 
University,  as  he  had  planned.  Finally,  one 
night,  I  met  him  as  I  was  turning  in  to  my  rooms 
at  the  Marathon,  and  found  that  he  had  rented 
a  cubby-hole  on  the  top  floor  of  the  building. 
After  that,  I  saw  him  occasionally,  and  when  six 
months  had  passed,  was  forced  to  acknowledge 
that  he  was  thoroughly  in  earnest.  I  happened 
to  remark  to  Mr.  Royce  one  day  that  Swain 
seemed  to  be  making  good. 

'  Yes,"  my  partner  agreed;  "  I  didn't  think  he 
had  it  in  him.  He  had  a  rude  awakening  from  his 
dream  of  affluence,  and  it  seems  to  have  done  him 
good." 

But,  somehow,  I  had  fancied  that  it  was  from 
more  than  a  dream  of  affluence  he  had  been 
awakened;  and  now,  as  I  sat  staring  at  this  letter, 
I  began  to  understand  dimly  what  the  other  dream 
had  been. 

The  first  thing  was  to  get  the  letter  into  his 
hands,  for  I  was  certain  that  it  was  a  cry  for  help. 
I  glanced  at  my  watch  and  saw  that  it  was  nearly 
half  past  twelve.  Swain,  I  knew,  would  be  at 
lunch,  and  was  not  due  at  the  office  until  one 
o'clock.  Slipping  the  letter  into  my  pocket,  I 
turned  back  to  the  house,  and  found  Mrs.  Hargis 
standing  on  the  front  porch. 


THE   GLOVED    HAND  31 

u  I  declare,  I  thought  you  was  lost,  Mr. 
Lester,"  she  said.  "  I  was  just  going  to  send 
William  to  look  for  you.  Ain't  you  'most 
starved?  " 

"  Scarcely  starved,  Mrs.  Hargis,"  I  said,  "  but 
with  a  very  creditable  appetite,  when  you  consider 
that  I  ate  breakfast  only  two  hours  ago." 

"  Well,  come  right  in,"  she  said.  "  Your 
lunch  is  ready." 

"  I  suppose  there's  a  telephone  somewhere 
about?"  I  asked,  as  I  followed  her  through  the 
hall. 

"  Yes,  sir,  in  here,"  and  she  opened  the  door 
into  a  little  room  fitted  up  as  a  study.  "  It's  here 
Mr.  Godfrey  works  sometimes." 

"  Thank  you,"  I  said,  "  I've  got  to  call  up  the 
office.  I  won't  be  but  a  minute." 

I  found  Godfrey's  number  stamped  on  the  cover 
of  the  telephone  book,  and  then  called  the  office. 
As  I  had  guessed,  Swain  was  not  yet  back  from 
lunch,  and  I  left  word  for  him  to  call  me  as  soon 
as  he  came  in.  Then  I  made  my  way  to  the 
dining-room,  where  Mrs.  Hargis  was  awaiting 
me. 

"  How  does  one  get  out  here  from  New  York, 
Mrs.  Hargis?"  I  asked,  as  I  sat  down.  "That 
is,  if  one  doesn't  happen  to  own  a  motor  car?  " 

"  Why,  very  easily,  sir.     Take  the  Third  Ave- 


32  THE    GLOVED    HAND 

nue  elevated  to  the  end  of  the  line,  and  then  the 
trolley.  It  runs  along  Dryden  Road,  just  two 
blocks  over." 

"Where  does  one  get  off?" 

"At  Prospect  Street,  sir." 

"  And  what  is  this  place  called?  " 

;'  This  is  the  old  Bennett  place,  sir." 

'  Thank  you.  And  let  me  tell  you,  Mrs.  Har- 
gis,"  I  added,  "  that  I  have  never  tasted  a  better 
salad." 

Her  kindly  old  face  flushed  with  pleasure. 

"  It's  nice  of  you  to  say  that,  sir,"  she  said. 
'*  We  have  our  own  garden,  and  William  takes 
a  great  pride  in  it." 

"  I  must  go  and  see  it,"  I  said.  "  I've  always 
fancied  I'd  like  to  potter  around  in  a  garden.  I 
must  see  if  Mr.  Godfrey  won't  let  me  in  on  this." 

"  He  spends  an  hour  in  it  every  morning. 
Sometimes  he  can  hardly  tear  hisself  away.  I 
certainly  do  like  Mr.  Godfrey." 

"  So  do  I,"  I  agreed  heartily.  "  He's  a  splen- 
did fellow  —  one  of  the  nicest,  squarest  men  I 
ever  met  —  and  a  friend  worth  having." 

"  He's  all  of  that,  sir,"  she  agreed,  and  stood 
for  a  moment,  clasping  and  unclasping  her  hands 
nervously,  as  though  there  was  something  else 
she  wished  to  say.  But  she  evidently  thought  bet- 
ter of  it.  "There's  the  bell,  sir,"  she  added. 


THE    GLOVED    HAND  33 

"  Please  ring  if  there's  anything  else  you  want," 
and  she  left  me  to  myself. 

I  had  pushed  back  my  chair  and  was  filling  my 
pipe  when  the  telephone  rang.  It  was  Swain. 

"  Swain,"  I  said,  "  this  is  Mr.  Lester.  I'm  at 
a  place  up  here  in  the  Bronx,  and  I  want  you  to 
come  up  right  away." 

"  Very  good,  sir,"  said  Swain.  "  How  do  I 
get  there?" 

"  Take  the  Third  Avenue  elevated  to  the  end 
of  the  line,  and  then  the  trolley  which  runs  along 
Dryden  Road.  Get  off  at  Prospect  Street,  walk 
two  blocks  west  and  ask  for  the  old  Bennett  place. 
I'll  have  an  eye  out  for  you." 

"  All  right,  sir,"  said  Swain,  again.  "  Do  you 
want  me  to  bring  some  papers,  or  anything?  " 

"No;  just  come  as  quickly  as  you  can,"  I  an- 
swered, and  hung  up. 

I  figured  that,  even  at  the  best,  it  would  take 
Swain  an  hour  and  a  half  to  make  the  journey, 
and  I  strolled  out  under  the  trees  again.  Then 
the  thought  came  to  me  that  I  might  as  well  make 
a  little  exploration  of  the  neighbourhood,  and  I 
sauntered  out  to  the  road.  Along  it  for  some 
distance  ran  the  high  wall  which  bounded  Elm- 
hurst,  and  I  saw  that  the  wall  had  been  further 
fortified  by  ugly  pieces  of  broken  glass  set  in 
.  cement  along  its  top. 


34  THE    GLOVED    HAND 

I  could  see  a  break  in  the  wall,  about  midway 
of  its  length,  and,  walking  past,  discovered  that 
this  was  where  the  gates  were  set  —  heavy  gates 
of  wrought  iron,  very  tall,  and  surmounted  by 
sharp  spikes.  The  whole  length  of  the  wall  was, 
I  judged,  considerably  over  a  city  block,  but  there 
was  no  other  opening  in  it. 

At  the  farther  end,  it  was  bounded  by  a  cross- 
road,  and,  turning  along  this,  I  found  that  the 
wall  extended  nearly  the  same  distance  in  this  di- 
rection. There  was  an  opening  about  midway  — 
a  small  opening,  closed  by  a  heavy,  iron-banded 
door  —  the  servants'  entrance,  I  told  myself. 
The  grounds  of  a  row  of  houses  facing  the  road 
beyond  ran  up  to  the  wall  at  the  back,  and  I  could 
not  follow  it  without  attracting  notice,  but  I  could 
see  that  there  was  no  break  in  it.  I  was  almost 
certain  that  the  wall  which  closed  the  estate  on 
Godfrey's  side  was  also  unbroken.  There  were, 
then,  only  the  two  entrances. 

I  walked  back  again  to  the  front,  and  paused 
for  a  glance  through  the  gates.  But  there  was 
nothing  to  be  seen.  The  driveway  parted  and 
curved  away  out  of  sight  in  either  direction,  and 
a  dense  mass  of  shrubbery  opposite  the  gate  shut 
off  any  view  of  the  grounds.  Even  of  the  house, 
there  was  nothing  to  be  seen  except  the  chimneys 
and  one  gable.  Evidently,  Mr.  Vaughan  was 


THE    GLOVED    HAND  35 

fond  of  privacy,  and  had  spared  no  pains  to  se- 
cure it. 

Opposite  the  Vaughan  place,  a  strip  of  woodland 
ran  back  from  the  road.  It  was  dense  with  un- 
dergrowth, and,  I  reflected,  would  form  an  ad- 
mirable hiding-place.  The  road  itself  seemed 
little  travelled,  and  I  judged  that  the  main  artery 
of  traffic  was  the  road  along  which  the  trolley  ran, 
two  blocks  away. 

I  returned  to  my  starting  point,  and  assured 
myself  that  the  wall  on  that  side  was  indeed  with- 
out a  break.  Some  vines  had  started  up  it  here 
and  there,  but,  for  the  most  part,  it  loomed  grey 
and  bleak,  crowned  along  its  whole  length  by  that 
threatening  line  of  broken  glass.  I  judged  it  to 
be  twelve  feet  high,  so  that,  even  without  the  glass, 
it  would  be  impossible  for  anyone  to  get  over  it 
without  assistance.  As  I  stood  there  looking  at 
it,  resenting  the  threat  of  that  broken  glass,  and 
pondering  the  infirmity  of  character  which  such  a 
threat  revealed,  it  suddenly  struck  me  that  the  upper 
part  of  the  wall  differed  slightly  from  the  lower 
part.  It  was  a  little  lighter  in  colour,  a  little  newer 
in  appearance;  and,  examining  the  wall  more 
closely,  I  discovered  that  originally  it  had  been 
only  eight  or  nine  feet  high,  and  that  the  upper 
part  had  been  added  at  a  later  date  —  and  last  of 
all,  of  course,  the  broken  glass! 


36  THE    GLOVED    HAND 

As  I  turned  back,  at  last,  toward  the  house,  I 
saw  someone  coming  up  the  drive.  In  a  moment, 
I  recognised  Swain,  and  quickened  my  steps. 

"  You  made  good  time,"  I  said. 

"  Yes,  sir;  I  was  fortunate  in  catching  an  ex- 
press and  not  having  to  wait  for  the  trolley." 

"  We'd  better  go  into  the  house,"  I  added.  "  I 
have  a  message  for  you  —  a  confidential  mes- 
sage." 

He  glanced  at  me  quickly,  but  followed  silently, 
as  I  led  the  way  into  Godfrey's  study  and  care- 
fully closed  the  door. 

"  Sit  down,"  I  said,  and  I  sat  down  myself  and 
looked  at  him. 

I  had  always  thought  Swain  a  handsome,  thor- 
oughbred-looking fellow;  and  I  saw  that,  in  the 
past  few  months,  he  had  grown  more  thorough- 
bred-looking than  ever.  His  face  was  thinner  than 
when  he  had  first  gone  to  work  for  us,  there  was 
a  new  line  between  his  eyebrows,  and  the  set  of 
his  lips  told  of  battles  fought  and  won.  A  year 
ago,  it  had  seemed  natural  to  call  him  Freddie, 
but  no  one  would  think  of  doing  so  now.  His 
father's  creditors  had  not  attempted  to  take  from 
him  his  wardrobe  —  a  costly  and  extensive  one 
—  so  that  he  was  dressed  as  carefully,  if  not  quite 
as  fashionably,  as  ever,  in  a  way  that  suggested  a 
young  millionaire,  rather  than  a  fifteen-dollar-a- 


THE    GLOVED    HAND  37 

week  clerk.  At  this  moment,  his  face  was 
clouded,  and  he  drummed  the  arm  of  his  chair 
with  nervous  fingers.  Then  he  shifted  uneasily 
under  my  gaze,  which  was,  perhaps,  more  earnest 
than  I  realised. 

"  You  said  you  had  a  message  for  me,  sir,"  he 
reminded  me. 

"  Yes,"  I  said.  "  Have  you  ever  been  out 
this  way  before?  " 

"  Yes,  I  have  been  out  this  way  a  number  of 
times." 

"  You  know  this  place,  then?  " 

"  I  have  heard  it  mentioned,  but  I  have  never 
been  here  before." 

"  Do  you  know  whose  place  that  is  next  door 
to  us?" 

'  Yes,"  and  his  voice  sank  to  a  lower  key.     "  It 
belongs  to  Worthington  Vaughan." 

"  And  you  know  him  ?  " 

"  At  one  time,  I  knew  him  quite  well,  sir,"  and 
his  voice  was  still  lower. 

"  No  doubt,"  I  went  on,  more  and  more  in- 
terested, "  you  also  knew  his  very  fascinating 
daughter." 

A  wave  of  colour  crimsoned  his  face. 

"Why  are  you  asking  me  these  questions,  Mr. 
Lester?  "  he  demanded. 

"  Because,"   I   said,   "  the  message  I  have  is 


38  THE   GLOVED    HAND 

from  that  young  lady,  and  is  for  a  man  named 
Frederic  Swain." 

He  was  on  his  feet,  staring  at  me,  and  all  the 
blood  was  gone  from  his  cheeks. 

"A  message!"  he  cried.  "From  her! 
From  Marjorie!  What  is  it,  Mr.  Lester?  For 
God's  sake  .  .  ." 

"  Here  it  is,"  I  said,  and  handed  him  the  letter. 

He  seized  it,  took  one  look  at  the  address,  then 
turned  away  to  the  window  and  ripped  the  envel- 
ope open.  He  unfolded  the  sheet  of  paper  it 
contained,  and  as  his  eyes  ran  along  it,  his  face 
grew  whiter  still.  At  last  he  raised  his  eyes  and 
stared  at  me  with  the  look  of  a  man  who  felt 
the  world  tottering  about  him* 


CHAPTER   V 

A   CALL  FOR  HELP 

"  FOR  heaven's  sake,  Swain,"  I  said,  "  sit  down 
and  pull  yourself  together." 

But  he  did  not  seem  to  hear  me.  Instead  he 
read  the  letter  through  again,  then  he  turned 
toward  me. 

"How  did  you  get  this,  Mr.  Lester?"  he 
asked. 

"  I  found  it  lying  under  the  trees.  It  had  been 
thrown  over  the  wall." 

"  But  how  did  you  know  it  was  thrown  over  by 
Miss  Vaughan?  " 

"  That  was  an  easy  guess,"  I  said,  sparring 
feebly.  "  Who  else  would  attempt  to  conduct  a 
surreptitious  correspondence  with  a  handsome 
young  man?  " 

But  he  did  not  smile;  the  look  of  intensity  in 
his  eyes  deepened. 

"  Come,  Mr.  Lester,"  he  protested,  "  don't 
play  with  me.  I  have  a  right  to  know  the  truth." 

"What  right?"  I  queried. 

He  paused  an  instant,  as  though  nerving  him- 
self to  speak,  as  though  asking  himself  how  much 

39 


40  THE    GLOVED   HAND 

he  should  tell  me.  Then  he  came  toward  me  im- 
pulsively. 

"  Miss  Vaughan  and  I  are  engaged  to  be  mar- 
ried," he  said.  "  Some  persons  may  tell  you  that 
the  engagement  has  been  broken  off;  more  than 
once,  I  have  offered  to  release  her,  but  she  re- 
fuses to  be  released.  We  love  each  other." 

The  word  "  love "  is  a  difficult  one  for  us 
Anglo-Saxons  to  pronounce;  the  voice  in  which 
Swain  uttered  it  brought  me  to  my  feet,  with  out- 
stretched hand. 

"If  there's  anything  I  can  do  for  you,  my  boy," 
I  said,  "  tell  me." 

"  Thank  you,  Mr.  Lester,"  and  he  returned  my 
clasp.  "  You  have  done  a  great  deal  already  in 
giving  me  this  letter  so  promptly.  The  only  other 
thing  you  can  do  is  to  permit  me  to  stay  here  until 
to-night." 

"Until  to-night?" 

"  Miss  Vaughan  asks  me  to  meet  her  to-night." 

"  In  her  father's  grounds?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Unknown  to  him?  " 

"  Yes." 

"He  is  not  friendly  to  you?" 

"  No." 

I  had  a  little  struggle  with  myself. 

"  See  here,  Swain,"  I  said,  "  sit  down  and  let 


THE    GLOVED    HAND  41 

us  talk  this  thing  over  calmly.  Before  I  promise 
anything,  I  should  like  to  know  more  of  the  story. 
From  the  glimpse  I  caught  of  Miss  Vaughan,  I 
could  see  that  she  is  very  beautiful,  and  she  also 
seemed  to  me  to  be  very  young." 

"  She  is  nineteen,"  said  Swain. 

"  Her  father  is  wealthy,  I  suppose?  " 

"  Very  wealthy." 

"And  her  mother  is  dead?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Well,"  I  began,  and  hesitated,  fearing  to 
wound  him. 

"  I  know  what  you  are  thinking,"  Swain  burst 
in,  "  and  I  do  not  blame  you.  You  are  thinking 
that  she  is  a  young,  beautiful  and  wealthy  girl, 
while  I  am  a  poverty-stricken  nonentity,  without 
any  profession,  and  able  to  earn  just  enough  to  live 
on  —  perhaps  I  couldn't  do  even  that,  if  I  had 
to  buy  my  clothes!  You  are  thinking  that  her 
father  is  right  to  separate  us,  and  that  she  ought 
to  be  protected  from  me.  Isn't  that  it?  " 

"  Yes,"  I  admitted,  "  something  like  that." 

"  And  I  answer,  Mr.  Lester,  by  saying  that  all 
that  is  true,  that  I  am  not  worthy  of  her,  and  that 
nobody  knows  it  better  than  I  do.  There  are 
thousands  of  men  who  could  offer  her  far  more 
than  I  can,  and  who  would  be  eager  to  offer  it. 
But  when  I  asked  her  to  marry  me,  I  thought  my- 


42  THE    GLOVED    HAND 

self  the  son  of  a  wealthy  man.  When  I  found 
myself  a  pauper,  I  wrote  at  once  to  release  her. 
She  replied  that  when  she  wished  her  release,  she 
would  ask  for  it;  that  it  wasn't  my  money  she  was 
in  love  with.  Then  I  came  out  here  and  had  a 
talk  with  her  father.  He  was  kind  enough,  but 
pointed  out  that  the  affair  could  not  go  further 
until  I  had  established  myself.  I  agreed,  of 
course;  I  agreed,  too,  when  he  suggested  that  it 
would  only  be  fair  to  her  to  leave  her  free  —  not 
to  see  her  or  write  to  her,  or  try  to  influence  her 
in  any  way.  I  wanted  to  be  fair  to  her.  Since 
then,  I  have  not  seen  her,  nor  heard  from  her. 
But  her  father's  feelings  have  changed  toward 
me." 

"  In  what  way?  '* 

"  I  thought  he  might  be  interested  to  know 
what  I  was  doing,  and  two  or  three  months  ago,  I 
called  and  asked  to  see  him.  Instead  of  seeing 
me,  he  sent  word  by  a  black-faced  fellow  in  a  white 
robe  that  neither  he  nor  his  daughter  wished  to 
see  me  again." 

His  face  was  red  with  the  remembered  humili- 
ation. 

"  I  wrote  to  Miss  Vaughan  once,  after  that," 
he  added,  "  but  my  letter  was  not  answered." 

"  Evidently  she  didn't  get  your  letter." 

"  Why  do  you  think  so?  " 


THE    GLOVED    HAND  43 

"  If  she  had  got  it,  she  would  have  known  that 
you  were  no  longer  at  1010  Fifth  Avenue.  Her 
father,  no  doubt,  kept  it  from  her." 

He  flushed  still  more  deeply,  and  started  to 
say  something,  but  I  held  him  silent. 

"  He  was  justified  in  keeping  it,"  I  said.  '  You 
had  promised  not  to  write  to  her.  And  I  don't 
see  that  you  have  given  me  any  reason  why  I 
should  assist  you  against  him." 

44 1  haven't,"  Swain  admitted  more  calmly, 
"  and  under  ordinary  circumstances,  my  self-re- 
spect would  compel  me  to  keep  away.  I  am  not 
a  fortune-hunter.  But  I  can't  keep  away;  I  can't 
stand  on  my  dignity.  When  she  calls  for  aid,  I 
must  go  to  her,  not  for  my  own  sake  but  for  hers, 
because  she  needs  to  be  protected  from  her  father 
far  more  than  from  me." 

4'  What  do  you  mean  by  that?  "  I  demanded. 

44  Mr.  Lester,"  he  said,  leaning  forward  in  his 
chair  and  speaking  in  a  lowered  voice  and  with 
great  earnestness,  "  her  father  is  mad  —  I  am  sure 
of  it.  No  one  but  a  madman  would  live  and  dress 
as  he  does;  no  one  but  a  madman  would  devote  his 
whole  time  to  the  study  of  the  supernatural;  no 
one  but  a  madman  would  believe  in  the  super- 
natural as  he  does." 

But  I  shook  my  head. 

44  I'm  afraid  that  won't  do,  Swain.     A  good 


44  THE    GLOVED    HAND 

many  fairly  sane  people  believe  in  the  super- 
natural and  devote  themselves  to  its  study  —  there 
is  William  James,  for  instance." 

"  But  William  James  doesn't  dress  in  flowing 
robes,  and  worship  the  sun,  and  live  with  a  Hindu 
mystic." 

"  No,"  I  smiled,  "  he  doesn't  do  that,"  and  I 
thought  again  of  the  mysterious  light  and  of  the 
two  white-clad  figures.  "  Does  he  live  with  a 
Hindu  mystic?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Swain,  bitterly.  "  An  adept,  or 
whatever  they  call  it.  He's  the  fellow  who  kicked 
me  out." 

"  Does  he  speak  English?  " 

"  Better  than  I  do.  He  seems  a  finely-educated 
man." 

"Is  he  a  lunatic,  too?" 

Swain  hesitated. 

"  I  don't  know,"  he  said,  finally.  "  I  only  «aw 
him  once,  and  I  was  certainly  impressed  —  I 
wasn't  one,  two,  three  with  him.  I  suppose  mys- 
ticism comes  more  or  less  natural  to  a  Hindu ;  but 
I'm  convinced  that  Mr.  Vaughan  has  softening  of 
the  brain." 

"How  old  is  he?" 

"  About  sixty." 

"  Has  he  always  been  queer?  " 

"  He  has  always  been  interested  in  telepathy  and 


THE    GLOVED    HAND  45 

mental  suggestion,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing.  But 
before  his  wife's  death,  he  was  fairly  normal.  It 
was  her  death  that  started  him  on  this  supernat- 
ural business.  He  hasn't  thought  of  anything 
else  since." 

"  Are  there  any  relatives  who  could  be  asked  to 
interfere?  " 

"  None  that  I  know  of." 

I  thought  over  what  he  had  told  me. 

"  Well,"  I  said  at  last,  "  I  can  see  no  harm  in 
your  meeting  Miss  Vaughan  and  finding  out  what 
the  condition  of  affairs  really  is.  If  her  father 
is  really  mad,  he  may  be  a  good  deal  worse 
now  than  he  was  when  you  saw  him  last.  It 
would,  of  course,  be  possible  to  have  his  sanity 
tested  —  but  his  daughter  would  scarcely  wish  to 
do  that." 

"  No,  of  course  not,"  Swain  agreed. 

"  Her  letter  tells  you  nothing?  " 

"  Nothing  except  that  she  is  in  great  trouble, 
and  wishes  to  see  me  at  once." 

"  You  are  to  go  to  the  house?  " 

"No;  there  is  an  arbour  in  one  corner  of  the 
grounds.  She  says  that  she  will  be  there  at  eleven- 
thirty  every  night  for  three  nights.  After  that, 
she  says  it  will  be  no  use  for  me  to  come  —  that 
it  will  be  too  late." 

"  What  does  she  mean  by  '  too  late  '  ?  " 


46  THE    GLOVED    HAND 

"  I  have  no  idea,"  he  answered,  and  turned  to 
another  anxious  perusal  of  the  letter. 

I  turned  the  situation  over  in  my  mind.  Evi- 
dently Miss  Vaughan  believed  that  she  had  grave 
cause  for  alarm,  and  yet  it  was  quite  possible  she 
might  be  mistaken.  She  was  being  urged  to  con- 
sent to  something  against  her  will,  but  perhaps  it 
was  for  her  own  good.  In  any  event,  I  had  seen 
no  indication  that  her  consent  was  being  sought  by 
violence.  There  must  be  no  interference  on  our 
part  until  we  were  surer  of  our  ground. 

"  Well,  Swain,"  I  said,  at  last,  "  I  will  help 
you  on  one  condition." 

"What  is  that?" 

"  You  will  meet  Miss  Vaughan  to-night  and  hear 
her  story,  but  you  will  take  no  action  until  you 
and  I  have  talked  the  matter  over.  She,  herself, 
says  that  she  has  three  days,"  I  went  on,  as  he 
started  to  protest,  "  so  there  is  no  necessity  for 
leaping  in  the  dark.  And  I  would  point  out  to 
you  that  she  is  not  yet  of  age,  but  is  still  under  her 
father's  control." 

"  She  is  nineteen,"  he  protested. 

"  In  this  state,  the  legal  age  for  women,  as  for 
men,  is  twenty-one.  The  law  requires  a  very  seri- 
ous reason  for  interfering  between  a  child  and  its 
father.  Moreover,"  I  added,  "  she  must  not  be 
compromised.  If  you  persuade  her  to  accompany 


THE    GLOVED    HAND  47 

you  to-night,  where  would  you  take  her?  In  no 
case,  will  I  be  a  party  to  an  elopement  —  I  will  do 
all  I  can  to  prevent  it." 

He  took  a  short  turn  up  and  down  the  room, 
his  hands  clenched  behind  him. 

"  Mr.  Lester,"  he  said,  at  last,  stopping  before 
me,  "  I  want  you  to  believe  that  I  have  not  even 
thought  of  an  elopement  —  that  would  be  too 
base,  too  unfair  to  her.  But  I  see  that  you  are 
right.  She  must  not  be  compromised." 
"  And  you  promise  to  ask  my  advice?  " 
"  Suppose  I  make  such  a  promise,  what  then?  " 
"  If  you  make  such  a  promise,  and  I  agree  with 
you  as  to  the  necessity  for  Miss  Vaughan  to  leave 
her  father,  I  think  I  can  arrange  for  her  to  stay 
with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Royce  for  a  time.  There  she 
will  be  safe.  Should  legal  proceedings  become 
necessary,  our  firm  will  help  you.  I  want  to  help 
you,  Swain,"  I  added,  warmly,  "  but  I  must  be  con- 
vinced that  you  deserve  help.  That's  reasonable, 
isn't  it?" 

'  Yes,"    he    agreed,    and    held   out   his    hand. 
"  And  I  promise." 

"  Good.     And  now  for  the  arrangements." 

Two   twelve-foot   ladders  were  necessary,    one 

for  either  side  of  the  wall;  but,  beyond  a  short 

step-ladder,   the  place  possessed  none  except  the 

long  one  by  which  Godfrey  and  I  had  mounted 


48  THE    GLOVED   HAND 

into  the  tree.  Swain  suggested  that  this  might 
do  for  one,  but  I  felt  that  it  would  better  stay 
where  it  was,  and  sent  Hargis  over  to  Yonkers  to 
buy  two  new  ones,  instructing  him  to  bring  them 
back  with  him. 

Then  Swain  and  I  reconnoitred  the  wall,  and 
chose  for  the  crossing  a  spot  where  the  glass  es- 
carpment seemed  a  little  less  formidable  than  else- 
where. 

"  You  can  step  from  one  ladder  to  the  other," 
I  pointed  out,  "  without  touching  the  top  of  the 
wall.  A  mere  touch  would  be  dangerous  in  the 
dark." 

He  nodded  his  agreement,  and  finally  we  went 
back  to  the  house.  Getting  there,  we  found  sud- 
denly that  we  had  nothing  more  to  say.  Swain 
was  soon  deep  in  his  own  thoughts;  and,  I  must 
confess,  that,  after  the  first  excitement,  I  began 
to  find  the  affair  a  little  wearying.  Another  man's 
love-affair  is  usually  wearying;  and,  besides  that, 
the  glimpse  which  I  had  caught  of  Marjorie 
Vaughan  made  me  think  that  she  was  worthy  of  a 
bigger  fish  than  Swain  would  ever  be.  He  was 
right  in  saying  that  there  were  thousands  of  men 
who  had  more  to  give  her,  and  who  would  be 
eager  to  give. 

I  examined  Swain,  as  he  sat  there  staring  at 


THE    GLOVED    HAND  49 

nothing,  with  eyes  not  wholly  friendly.  He  was 
handsome  enough,  but  in  a  stereotyped  way.  And 
he  was  only  an  insignificant  clerk,  with  small  pros- 
pect of  ever  being  anything  much  better,  for  he 
had  started  the  battle  of  life  too  late.  Honest, 
of  course,  honourable,  clean-hearted,  but  common- 
place, with  a  depth  of  soul  easily  fathomed.  I 
know  now  that  I  was  unjust  to  Swain,  but,  at  the 
moment,  my  scrutiny  of  him  left  me  strangely  de- 
pressed. 

A  rattle  of  wheels  on  the  drive  brought  us  both 
out  of  our  thoughts.  It  was  Hargis  returning  with 
the  ladders.  I  had  him  hang  them  up  against  the 
shed  where  he  kept  his  gardening  implements,  for 
I  did  not  wish  him  to  suspect  the  invasion  we 
had  planned;  then,  just  to  kill  time  and  get  away 
from  Swain,  I  spent  an  hour  with  Hargis  in  his 
garden;  and  finally  came  the  summons  to  dinner. 
An  hour  later,  as  we  sat  on  the  front  porch  smok- 
ing, and  still  finding  little  or  nothing  to  say,  Mrs. 
Hargis  came  out  to  bid  us  good-night. 

"  Mr.  Swain  can  use  the  bedroom  next  to  yours, 
Mr.  Lester,"  she  said. 

"  Perhaps  he  won't  stay  all  night,"  I  said.  "  If 
he  does,  I'll  show  him  the  way  to  it.  And  thank 
you  very  much,  Mrs.  Hargis." 

"  Is  there  anything  else  I  can  do,  sir?  " 


5o  THE    GLOVED    HAND 

"  No,  thank  you." 

"  Mr.  Godfrey  will  be  here  a  little  before  mid- 
night—  at  least,  that's  his  usual  time." 

"We'll  wait  up  for  him,"  I  said.  "Good 
night,  Mrs.  Hargis." 

"  Good  night,  sir,"  and  she  went  back  into  the 
house. 

I  have  never  passed  through  a  longer  or  more 
trying  hour  than  the  next  one  was,  and  I  could 
tell  by  the  way  Swain  twitched  about  in  his  chair 
that  he  felt  the  tedium  as  much  as  I.  Once  or 
twice  I  tried  to  start  a  conversation,  but  it  soon 
trickled  dry;  and  we  ended  by  smoking  away 
moodily  and  staring  out  into  the  darkness. 

At  last  Swain  sprang  to  his  feet. 

"  I  can't  stand  this  any  longer,"  he  said.  '*  I'm 
going  over  the  wall." 

I  struck  a  match  and  looked  at  my  watch. 

"  It  isn't  eleven  o'clock  yet,"  I  warned  him. 

"  I  don't  care.  Perhaps  she'll  be  ahead  of  time. 
Anyway,  I  might  as  well  wait  there  as  here." 

"  Come  on,  then,"  I  agreed,  for  I  felt  myself 
that  another  such  hour  would  be  unendurable. 

Together  we  made  our  way  back  to  the  shed  and 

took  down  the  ladders.     A  moment  later,  we  were 

at  the  wall.     Swain  placed  his  ladder  against  it, 

-  and  mounted  quickly  to  the  top.     As  he  paused 

there,  I  handed  him  up  the  other  one.     He  caught 


THE    GLOVED    HAND  51 

it  from  my  hands,  lifted  it  over  the  wall,  and 
lowered  it  carefully  on  the  other  side.  As  he  did 
so,  I  heard  him  give  a  muffled  exclamation  of 
mingled  pain  and  annoyance,  and  knew  that  he 
had  cut  himself. 

"  Not  bad,  is  it?  "  I  asked. 

"  No;  only  a  scratch  on  the  wrist,"  he  answered 
shortly,  and  the  next  instant  he  had  swung  himself 
over  the  wall  and  disappeared. 


CHAPTER   VI 

THE    SCREAM   IN  THE   NIGHT 

FOR  some  moments,  I  stood  staring  up  into  the 
darkness,  half-expecting  that  shadowy  figure  to  re- 
appear, descend  the  ladder,  and  rejoin  me.  Then 
I  shook  myself  together.  The  fact  that  our  plot 
was  really  moving,  that  Swain  was  in  the  enemy's 
country,  so  to  speak,  gave  the  affair  a  finality 
which  it  had  lacked  before.  It  was  too  late  now 
to  hesitate  or  turn  back;  we  must  press  forward. 
I  felt  as  though,  after  a  long  period  of  uncertainty, 
war  had  been  declared  and  the  advance  definitely 
begun.  So  it  was  with  a  certain  sense  of  relief 
that  I  turned  away,  walked  slowly  back  to  the 
house,  and  sat  down  again  upon  the  porch  to 

wait. 

Now  waiting  is  seldom  a  pleasant  or  an  easy 
thing,  and  I  found  it  that  night  most  unpleasant 
and  uneasy.  For,  before  long,  doubts  began  to 
crowd  upon  me  —  doubts  of  the  wisdom  of  the 
course  I  had  subscribed  to.  It  would  have  been 
wiser,  I  told  myself,  if  it  had  been  I,  anc*  not 
Swain,  who  had  gone  to  the  rende^ois;  wiser 
still,  perhaps,  to  have  sought  an  interview  openly, 


THE    GLOVED    HAND  53 

and  to  have  made  sure  of  the  facts  before  seeming 
to  encourage  what  might  easily  prove  to  be  a  girl's 
more  or  less  romantic  illusions.  A  midnight  in- 
terview savoured  too  much  of  melodrama  to  ap- 
peal to  a  middle-aged  lawyer  like  myself,  how- 
ever great  its  appeal  might  be  to  youthful  lovers. 
At  any  rate,  I  would  be  certain  that  the  need  was 
very  great  before  I  consented  to  meddle  further! 

Somewhat  comforted  by  this  resolution  and 
by  the  thought  that  no  real  harm  had  as  yet  been 
done,  I  struck  a  match  and  looked  at  my  watch. 
It  was  half-past  eleven.  Well,  whatever  the  story 
was,  Swain  was  hearing  it  now,  and  I  should  hear 
it  before  long.  And  then  I  caught  the  hum  of  an 
approaching  car,  and  was  momentarily  blinded  by 
the  glare  of  acetylene  lamps. 

"  Hello,  Lester,"  called  Godfrey's  voice,  "  I'll 
be  back  in  a  minute,"  and  he  ran  the  car  on  toward 
the  rear  of  the  house. 

I  stood  up  with  a  gasp  of  thankfulness.  Here 
was  someone  to  confide  in  and  advise  with.  The 
stretch  of  lonely  waiting  was  at  an  end;  it  had 
been  a  trying  evening ! 

I  think  the  warmth  of  my  greeting  surprised 
Godfrey,  for  he  looked  at  me  curiously. 

"Sit  down,  Godfrey,"  I  said.  "I've  got 
something  to  tell  you." 

''What,  discoveries  already?"  he  laughed,  but 


54  THE    GLOVED    HAND 

he  drew  a  chair  close  to  mine  and  sat  down. 
"Well,  what  are  they?" 

I  began  at  the  beginning  and  related  the  day's 
adventures.  He  listened  without  comment,  but  I 
could  see  how  his  interest  grew. 

"  So  young  Swain  is  over  in  those  grounds  now," 
he  said  thoughtfully,  when  I  had  finished. 

"Yes;    he's   been   there   three-quarters    of    an 

hour." 

"  Why  do  you  suppose  Miss  Vaughan  named 

so  late  an  hour?  " 

"  I  don't  know.  Perhaps  because  she  was 
afraid  of  being  discovered  earlier  than  that  —  or 
perhaps  merely  because  she's  just  a  romantic  girl." 

Godfrey  sat  with  his  head  bent  in  thought  for 
a  moment. 

"  I  have  it!  "  hes  aid.  "  At  eleven-thirty  every 
night  her  father  and  the  adept  go  up  to  the  roof, 
to  remain  there  till  midnight.  That  is  the  one 
time  of  the  whole  day  when  she  is  absolutely  sure 
to  be  alone.  Come  along,  Lester !  " 

He  was  on  his  feet  now,  and  his  voice  was 
quivering  with  excitement. 

"  Where  are  you  going?  "  I  asked. 

"Up  the  ladder.  It's  nearly  twelve.  If  the 
star  falls  as  usual,  we'll  know  that  everything  is 
all  right  If  it  doesn't  .  .  ." 

He  did  not  finish,  but  hurried  away  among  the 


THE    GLOVED    HAND  55 

trees.  In  a  moment  we  were  at  the  ladder;  in 
another  moment  we  were  high  among  the  leaves, 
straining  our  eyes  through  the  darkness. 

"  I'm  going  to  look  at  my  watch,"  said  God- 
frey, in  a  low  voice.  "  Lean  back  and  screen 
me." 

I  heard  the  flash  of  the  match  and  saw  a  little 
glare  of  light  against  the  nearest  leaves.  Then 
Godfrey's  voice  spoke  again. 

"  It's  three  minutes  of  twelve,"  he  said. 

There  was  a  tension  in  his  voice  which  sent  a 
shiver  through  me,  though  I  understood  but  dimly 
what  it  was  he  feared.  The  stars  were  shining 
brightly,  and  once  I  fancied  that  I  saw  the  strange 
star  appear  among  them;  but  when  I  closed  my 
eyes  for  an  instant  and  looked  again,  it  was  gone. 
Slow  minute  followed  minute,  and  the  hand  with 
which  I  clutched  the  ladder  began  to  tremble. 
The  sight  of  that  mysterious  light  had  shaken  me 
the  night  before,  but  not  half  so  deeply  as  its  ab- 
sence shook  me  now.  At  last  the  suspense  grew 
unendurable. 

"  It  must  be  long  past  midnight,"  I  whispered. 

"  It  is,"  agreed  Godfrey  gravely;  "we  may  as 
well  go  down." 

He  paused  an  instant  longer  to  stare  out  into 

the  darkness,  then  descended  quickly.     I  followed, 

*   and  found  him  waiting,  a  dark  shadow.     He  put 


56  THE    GLOVED    HAND 

his  hand  on  my  arm,  and  stood  a  moment,  as 
though  in  indecision.  For  myself,  I  felt  as  though 
an  intolerable  burden  had  been  laid  upon  my 
shoulders. 

"  Well,"  I  asked,  at  last,  "  what  now?  " 

"  We  must  see  if  Swain  has  returned,"  he  an- 
swered. "  If  he  has,  all  right.  If  he  hasn't, 
we'll  have  to  go  and  look  for  him." 

;<  What  is  it  you  fear,  Godfrey?  "  I  demanded. 
"  Do  you  think  Swain's  in  danger?  " 

"I  don't  know  what  I  fear;  but  there's  some- 
thing wrong  over  there.  This  is  the  first  night 
for  a  week  that  that  light  hasn't  appeared." 

"  Still,"  I  pointed  out,  "  that  may  have  noth- 
ing to  do  with  Swain." 

"  No;  but  it's  a  coincidence  that  he  should  be  in 
the  grounds  —  and  I'm  always  afraid  of  coinci- 
dences. Let  us  see  if  he  is  back,"  and  he  turned 
toward  the  house. 

But  I  held  his  arm. 

"  If  he's  back,"  I  said,  "  he'll  have  taken  the 
ladders  down  from  the  wall." 

;<  That's  true,"  and  together  we  made  our  way 
forward  among  the  trees.  Then  we  reached  the 
wall,  and  there  was  the  dim  white  line  of  the  lad- 
der leaning  against  it.  Without  a  word,  Godfrey 
mounted  it,  stood  an  instant  at  the  top,  and  then 
came  down  again. 


THE    GLOVED    HAND  57 

'  The  other  ladder  is  still  there,"  he  said,  and 
took  off  his  cap  and  rubbed  his  head  perplexedly. 
I  could  not  see  his  face,  but  I  could  guess  how 
tense  it  was.  I  had  been  with  him  in  many  try- 
ing situations,  but  only  once  before  had  I  seen 
him  use  that  gesture! 

"  It  won't  do  to  alarm  the  house,"  he  said,  at 
last.  "  Do  you  know  where  he  was  to  meet  Miss 
Vaughan?  " 

"  At  an  arbour  in  one  corner  of  the  grounds,"  I 
answered. 

'  Then  we'll  start  from  there  and  take  a  quiet 
look  for  him.  Wait  here  for  me  a  minute." 

He  melted  into  the  darkness,  and  I  stood  hold- 
ing on  to  the  ladder  as  though  in  danger  of  fall- 
ing, and  staring  at  the  top  of  the  wall,  where  I 
had  last  seen  Swain.  An  hour  and  a  half  had 
passed  since  then.  .  .  . 

A  touch  on  the  arm  brought  me  around  with 
a  start. 

"  Here,  put  this  pistol  in  your  pocket,"  said 
Godfrey's  voice,  and  I  felt  the  weapon  pressed 
into  my  hand.  "  And  here's  an  electric  torch. 
Do  you  feel  the  button?  " 

'  Yes,"  I  said,  and  pressed  it.  A  ray  of  light 
shot  toward  the  wall,  but  I  released  the  button 
instantly. 

'  You'd  better  keep  it  in  your  hand,"  he  added, 


58  THE    GLOVED    HAND 

"  ready  for  action.     No  telling  what  we'll  run 
across.     And  now  come  ahead." 

He  put  his  foot  on  the  ladder,  but  I  stopped 
him. 

"  Look  here,  Godfrey,"  I  said,  "  do  you  realise 
that  what  we're  about  to  do  is  pretty  serious? 
Swain  might  have  a  legal  excuse,  since  the  daughter 
of  the  house  invited  him  to  a  meeting;  but  if  we 
go  over  the  wall,  we're  trespassers  pure  and  simple. 
Anybody  who  runs  across  us  in  the  darkness  has 
the  right  to  shoot  us  down  without  asking  any  ques- 
tions —  and  we'd  have  no  legal  right  to  shoot 
back!" 

I  could  hear  Godfrey  chuckling,  and  I  felt  my 
cheeks  redden. 

'You  remind  me  of  Tartarin,"  he  said;  "the 
adventurer-Tartarin  urging  you  on,  the  lawyer-Tar- 
tarin  holding  you  back.  My  advice  is  to  shake 
the  lawyer,  Lester.  He's  out  of  his  element  here 
to-night.  But  if  he's  too  strong  for  you,  why, 
stay  here,"  and  he  started  up  the  ladder. 

Burning  with  vexation,  I  started  after  him,  but 
suddenly  he  stopped. 

"  Listen  !  "  he  whispered. 

I  heard  something  rattle  against  the  other  side 
of  the  wall;  then  a  dark  figure  appeared  on  the 
coping. 

I  felt  Godfrey  press  me  back,  and  descended 


THE    GLOVED    HAND  59 

cautiously.  A  moment  later,  something  slid  down 
the  wall,  and  I  knew  that  the  person  at  the  top  had 
lifted  the  other  ladder  over.  Then  the  figure 
descended,  and  then  a  distorted  face  stared  into 
the  circle  of  Godfrey's  torch. 

For  a  breath,  I  did  not  recognise  it;  then  I  saw 
that  it  was  Swain's. 

I  shall  never  forget  the  shock  it  gave  me,  with 
its  starting  eyes  and  working  mouth  and  smear  of 
blood  across  the  forehead.  Godfrey,  I  knew,  was 
also  startled,  for  the  light  flashed  out  for  an  in- 
stant, and  then  flashed  on  again. 

"What  is  it,  Swain?  "  I  cried,  and  seized  him 
by  the  arm ;  but  he  shook  me  off  roughly. 

"Stand  back!"  he  cried,  hoarsely.  "Who  is 
it?  What  do  you  want?  " 

"  It's  Lester,"  I  said,  and  Godfrey  flashed  his 
torch  into  my  face,  then  back  to  Swain's. 

"  But  you're  not  alone." 

"No;  this  is  Mr.  Godfrey." 

"  Mr.  Godfrey?  " 

"  Whose  house  we're  staying  at,"  I  explained. 

"  Ah !  "  said  Swain,  and  put  one  hand  to  his 
head  and  leaned  heavily  against  the  ladder. 

"  I  think  we'd  better  go  to  the  house,"  God- 
frey suggested,  soothingly.  "  We  all  need  a 
bracer.  Then  we  can  talk.  Don't  you  think  so, 
Mr.  Swain?  " 


60  THE    GLOVED    HAND 

Swain  nodded  vacantly,  but  I  could  see  that  he 
had  not  understood.  His  face  was  still  working 
and  he  seemed  to  be  in  pain. 

"  I  want  to  wash,"  he  said,  thickly.  "  I  cut  my 
wrist  on  that  damned  glass,  and  I'm  blood  all  over, 
and  my  head's  wrong,  somehow."  His  voice 
trailed  off  into  an  unintelligible  mumble,  but  he 
held  one  hand  up  into  the  circle  of  light,  and  I 
saw  that  his  cuff  was  soaked  with  blood  and  his 
hand  streaked  with  it. 

"  Come  along,  then,"  said  Godfrey  perempto- 
rily. "  You're  right  —  that  cut  must  be  attended 
to,"  and  he  started  toward  the  house. 

"  Wait !  "  Swain  called  after  him,  with  unex- 
pected vigour.  "  We  must  take  down  the  ladders. 
We  mustn't  leave  them  here." 

"Why  not?" 

"  If  they're  found,  they'll  suspect  —  they'll 
know  .  .  ."  He  stopped,  stammering,  and 
again  his  voice  trailed  away  into  a  mumble,  as 
though  beyond  his  control. 

Godfrey  looked  at  him  for  a  moment,  and  I 
could  guess  at  the  surprise  and  suspicion  in  his 
eyes.  I  myself  was  ill  at  ease,  for  there  was 
something  in  Swain's  face  —  a  sort  of  vacant  hor- 
ror and  dumb  shrinking  —  that  filled  me  with  a 
vague  repulsion.  And  then  to  see  his  jaw  work- 


THE    GLOVED    HAND  61 

ing,  as  he  tried  to  form  articulate  words  and  could 
not,  sent  a  shiver  over  my  scalp. 

"  Very  well,"  Godfrey  agreed,  at  last.  "  We'll 
take  the  ladders,  since  you  think  it  so  impor- 
tant. You  take  that  one,  Lester,  and  I'll  take 
this." 

I  stooped  to  raise  the  ladder  to  my  shoulder, 
when  suddenly,  cutting  the  darkness  like  a  knife, 
came  a  scream  so  piercing,  so  vibrant  with  fear, 
that  I  stood  there  crouching,  every  muscle  rigid. 
Again  the  scream  came,  more  poignant,  more  ter- 
rible, wrung  from  a  woman's  throat  by  the  last 
extremity  of  horror;  and  then  a  silence  sickening 
and  awful.  What  was  happening  in  that  silence? 

I  stood  erect,  gaping,  suffocated,  rising  as  from 
a  long  submersion.  Godfrey's  finger  had  slipped 
from  the  button  of  his  torch,  and  we  were  in  dark- 
ness; but  suddenly  a  dim  figure  hurled  itself  past 
us,  up  the  ladder. 

With  a  low  cry,  Godfrey  snatched  at  it,  but  his 
hand  clutched  only  the  empty  air.  The  next  in- 
stant, the  figure  poised  itself  on  the  coping  of  the 
wall  and  then  plunged  forward  out  of  sight.  I 
heard  the  crash  of  breaking  branches,  a  scramble, 
a  patter  of  feet,  and  all  was  still. 

"It's  Swain!"  said  Godfrey,  hoarsely;  "and 
that's  a  twelve-foot  drop  !  Why,  the  man's  mad ! 


62  THE    GLOVED    HAND 

Hand  me  that  ladder,  Lester  1  "  he  added,  for  he 
was  already  at  the  top  of  the  wall. 

I  lifted  it,  as  I  had  done  once  before  that  night, 
and  saw  Godfrey  slide  it  over  the  wall. 

"  Come  on!  "  he  said.  ;<  We  must  save  him  if 
we  can!"  and  he,  too,  disappeared. 

The  next  instant,  I  was  scrambling  desperately 
after  him.  The  lawyer-Tartarin  had  vanished! 


CHAPTER   VII 

THE   TRAGEDY 

THE  wall  was  masked  on  the  other  side  by  a 
dense  growth  of  shrubbery,  and  struggling  through 
this,  I  found  myself  on  the  gravelled  path  where 
I  had  seen  Marjorie  Vaughan.  Before  me,  along 
this  path,  sped  a  shadow  which  I  knew  to  be  God- 
frey, and  I  followed  at  top  speed.  At  the  end 
of  a  moment,  I  caught  a  flash  of  light  among  the 
trees,  and  knew  that  we  were  nearing  the  house; 
but  I  saw  no  sign  of  Swain. 

We  came  to  the  stretch  of  open  lawn,  crossed 
it,  and,  guided  by  the  light,  found  ourselves  at  the 
end  of  a  short  avenue  of  trees.  At  the  other  end, 
a  stream  of  light  poured  from  an  open  door,  and 
against  that  light  a  running  figure  was  silhouetted. 
Even  as  I  saw  it,  it  bounded  through  the  open 
door  and  vanished. 

"  It's  Swain!  "  gasped  Godfrey;  and  then  we, 
too,  were  at  that  open  door. 

For  an  instant,  I  thought  the  room  was  empty. 
Then,  from  behind  the  table  in  the  centre,  a  de- 
moniac, blood-stained  figure  rose  into  view,  hold- 
ing in  its  arms  a  white-robed  woman.  With  a 
sort  of  nervous  shock,  I  saw  that  the  man  was 


64  THE    GLOVED    HAND 

Swain,  and  the  woman  Marjorie  Vaughan.  A 
thrill  of  fear  ran  through  me  as  I  saw  how  her 
head  fell  backwards  against  his  shoulder,  how  her 
arms  hung  limp.  .  .  . 

Without  so  much  as  a  glance  in  our  direction,  he 
laid  her  gently  on  a  couch,  fell  to  his  knees  be- 
side it,  and  began  to  chafe  her  wrists. 

It  was  Godfrey  who  mastered  himself  first,  and 
who  stepped  forward  to  Swain's  side. 

"  Is  she  dead?  "  he  asked. 

Swain  shook  his  head  impatiently,  without  look- 
ing up. 

"How  is  she  hurt?"  Godfrey  persisted,  bend- 
ing closer  above  the  unconscious  girl. 

Swain  shot  him  one  red  glance. 

"She's  not  hurt!"  he  said,  hoarsely.  "She 
has  fainted  —  that's  all.  Go  away." 

But  Godfrey  did  not  go  away.  After  one  burn- 
ing look  at  Swain's  lowering  face,  he  bent  again 
above  the  still  figure  on  the  couch,  and  touched  his 
fingers  to  the  temples.  What  he  saw  or  felt 
seemed  to  reassure  him,  for  his  voice  was  more  com- 
posed when  he  spoke  again. 

"  I  think  you're  right,  Swain,"  he  said.  "  But 
we'd  better  call  someone." 

"  Call  away!"  snarled  Swain. 
'  You  mean  there's  no  one  here?     Surely,  her 
father 


THE    GLOVED    HAND  65 

He  stopped,  for  at  the  words  Swain  had  burst 
into  a  hoarse  laugh. 

"  Her  father !  "  he  cried.  "  Oh,  yes ;  he's  here ! 
Call  him !  He's  over  there !  " 

He  made  a  wild  gesture  toward  a  high-backed 
easy-chair  beside  the  table,  his  eyes  gleaming  with 
an  almost  fiendish  excitement;  then  the  gleam 
faded,  and  he  turned  back  to  the  girl. 

Godfrey  cast  one  astonished  glance  at  him  and 
strode  to  the  chair.  I  saw  his  face  quiver  with 
sudden  horror,  I  saw  him  catch  at  the  table  for 
support,  and  for  an  instant  he  stood  staring  down. 
Then  he  turned  stiffly  toward  me  and  motioned  me 
to  approach. 

In  the  chair  a  man  sat  huddled  forward  —  a 
grey-haired  man,  clad  in  a  white  robe.  His  hands 
were  gripping  the  chair-arms  as  though  in  agony. 
His  head  hung  down  almost  upon  his  knees. 

Silently  Godfrey  reached  down  and  raised  the 
head.  And  a  cry  of  horror  burst  from  both  of 
us. 

The  face  was  purple  with  congested  blood,  the 
tongue  swollen  and  horribly  protruding,  the  eyes 
suffused  and  starting  from  their  sockets.  And 
then,  at  a  motion  from  Godfrey's  finger,  I  saw  that 
about  the  neck  a  cord  was  tightly  knotted.  The 
man  had  been  strangled. 

Godfrey,  after  a  breathless  moment  in  which 


66  THE    GLOVED   HAND 

he  made  sure  that  the  man  was  quite  dead,  let 
the  head  fall  forward  again.  It  turned  me  sick 
to  see  how  low  it  sagged,  how  limp  it  hung.  And 
I  saw  that  the  collar  of  the  white  robe  was  spotted 
with  blood. 

I  do  not  know  what  was  in  Godfrey's  mind, 
but,  by  a  common  impulse,  we  turned  and  looked 
at  Swain.  He  was  still  on  his  knees  beside  the 
couch.  Apparently  he  had  forgotten  our  pres- 
ence. 

"  It's  plain  enough,*  said  Godfrey,  his  voice 
thick  with  emotion.  "  She  came  in  and  found  the 
body.  No  wonder  she  screamed  like  that!  But 
where  are  the  servants?  Where  is  everybody?" 

The  same  thought  was  in  my  own  mind.  The 
utter  silence  of  the  house,  the  fact  that  no  one 
came,  added,  somehow,  to  the  horror  of  the  mo- 
ment. Those  wild  screams  must  have  echoed  from 
cellar  to  garret  —  and  yet  no  one  came ! 

Godfrey  made  a  rapid  scrutiny  of  the  room, 
which  was  evidently  the  library,  with  a  double  door 
opening  upon  the  grounds  and  another  opposite 
opening  into  the  hall.  On  the  wall  beside  the 
inner  door,  he  found  an  electric  button,  and  he 
pushed  it  for  some  moments,  but  there  was  no 
response.  If  it  rang  a  bell,  the  bell  was  so  far 
away  that  we  could  not  hear  it. 

A   heavy    curtain    hung   across    the    doorway. 


THE    GLOVED    HAND  67 

Godfrey  pulled  it  aside  and  peered  into  the  hall 
beyond.  The  hall  was  dark  and  silent.  With 
face  decidedly  grim,  he  took  his  torch  from  one 
pocket  and  his  pistol  from  another. 

"  Come  along,  Lester,"  he  said.  "  We've  got 
to  look  into  this.  Have  your  torch  ready  —  and 
your  pistol.  God  knows  what  further  horrors  this 
house  contains !  " 

He  pulled  back  the  curtain,  so  that  the  hall  was 
lighted  to  some  extent  from  the  open  doorway,  and 
then  passed  through,  I  after  him.  The  hall  was 
a  broad  one,  running  right  through  the  centre  of 
the  house  from  front  to  rear.  Godfrey  proceeded 
cautiously  and  yet  rapidly  the  whole  length  of  it, 
flashing  his  torch  into  every  room.  They  were 
all  luxuriously  furnished,  but  were  empty  of  hu- 
man occupants.  From  the  kitchen,  which  closed 
the  hall  at  the  rear,  a  flight  of  stone  steps  led 
down  into  the  basement,  and  Godfrey  descended 
these  with  a  steadiness  I  could  not  but  admire. 
We  found  ourselves  in  a  square,  stone-flagged 
room,  evidently  used  as  a  laundry.  Two  doors 
opened  out  of  it,  but  both  were  secured  with  heavy 
padlocks. 

"  Store-rooms  or  wine-cellars,  perhaps,"  God- 
frey ventured,  mounted  the  stairs  again  to  the  kit- 
chen, and  returned  to  the  room  whence  we  had 
started. 


68  THE    GLOVED    HAND 

Everything  there  was  as  we  had  left  it.  The 
dead  man  sat  huddled  forward  in  his  chair;  Swain 
was  still  on  his  knees  beside  the  couch;  the  girl 
had  not  stirred.  Godfrey  went  to  the  side  of  the 
couch,  and,  disregarding  Swain's  fierce  glance, 
again  placed  his  fingers  lightly  on  the  girl's  left 
temple.  Then  he  came  back  to  me. 

"  If  she  doesn't  revive  pretty  soon,"  he  said, 
"  we'll  have  to  try  heroic  measures.  But  there 
must  be  somebody  in  the  house.  Let's  look  up- 
stairs." 

He  led  the  way  up  the  broad  stairs,  which  rose 
midway  of  the  hall,  sending  a  long  ray  of  light 
ahead  of  him.  I  followed  in  no  very  happy  frame 
of  mind,  for  I  confess  that  this  midnight  explora- 
tion of  an  unknown  house,  with  a  murdered  man 
for  its  only  occupant,  was  getting  on  my  nerves. 
But  Godfrey  proceeded  calmly  and  systematically. 

The  hall  above  corresponded  to  that  below,  with 
two  doors  on  each  side,  opening  into  bedroom 
suites.  The  first  was  probably  that  of  the  mas- 
ter of  the  house.  It  consisted  of  bedroom,  bath 
and  dressing-room,  but  there  was  no  one  there. 
The  next  was  evidently  Miss  Vaughan's.  It  also 
had  a  bath  and  a  daintily-furnished  boudoir;  but 
these,  too,  were  empty. 

Then,  as  we  opened  the  door  across  the  hall,  a 
strange  odour  saluted  us  —  an  odour  suggestive 


THE    GLOVED   HAND  69 

somehow  of  the  East  —  which,  in  the  first  moment, 
caught  the  breath  from  the  throat,  and  in  the  sec- 
ond seemed  to  muffle  and  retard  the  beating  of  the 
heart. 

A  flash  of  Godfrey's  torch  showed  that  we  were 
in  a  little  entry,  closed  at  the  farther  end  by  a 
heavy  drapery.  Godfrey  strode  forward  and 
swept  the  drapery  aside.  The  rush  of  perfume 
was  overpowering,  and  through  the  opening  came 
a  soft  glow  of  light. 

It  was  a  moment  before  I  got  my  breath;  then 
a  mist  seemed  to  fall  from  before  my  eyes  and 
a  strange  sense  of  exaltation  and  well-being  stole 
through  me.  I  saw  Godfrey  standing  motionless, 
transfixed,  with  one  hand  holding  back  the  drap- 
ery, and  his  torch  hanging  unused  in  the  other,  and 
I  crept  forward  and  peered  over  his  shoulder  at 
the  strangest  scene  I  have  ever  gazed  upon. 

Just  in  front  of  us,  poised  in  the  air  some  three 
feet  from  the  floor,  hung  a  sphere  of  crystal,  glow- 
ing with  a  soft  radiance  which  seemed  to  wax  and 
wane,  to  quiver  almost  to  darkness  and  then  to 
burn  more  clearly.  It  was  like  a  dreamer's  pulse, 
fluttering,  pausing,  leaping,  in  accord  with  his  vi- 
sion. And  as  I  gazed  at  the  sphere,  I  fancied  I 
could  see  within  it  strange,  elusive  shapes,  which 
changed  and  merged  and  faded  from  moment  to 
moment,  and  yet  grew  always  clearer  and  more 


70  (THE    GLOVED   HAND 

suggestive.  I  bent  forward,  straining  my  eyes  to 
see  them  better,  to  fathom  their  meaning  .  .  . 

Godfrey,  turning  to  speak  to  me,  saw  my  at- 
titude and  shook  me  roughly  by  the  arm. 

"Don't  do  that,  Lester  1"  he  growled  in  my 
ear.  "  Take  your  eyes  off  that  crystal  1  " 

I  tried  to  move  my  eyes,  but  could  not^  until 
Godfrey  pulled  me  around  to  face  him.  I  stood 
blinking  at  him  stupidly. 

"  I  was  nearly  gone,  myself,  before  I  realised 
the  danger,"  he  said.  "  A  sphere  like  that  can 
hypnotise  a  man  more  quickly  than  anything  else 
on  earth,  especially  when  his  resistance  is  lessened, 
as  it  is  by  this  heavy  perfume." 

"  It  was  rather  pleasant,"  I  said.  "  I  should 
like  to  try  it  some  time." 

"  Well,  you  can't  try  it  now.  You've  got  some- 
thing else  to  do.  Besides,  it  has  two  victims  al- 
ready." 

"  Two  victims?  " 

"  Look  carefully,  but  keep  your  eyes  off  the 
sphere,"  he  said,  and  swung  me  around  toward 
the  room  again. 

The  room  was  shrouded  in  impenetrable  dark- 
ness, except  for  the  faint  and  quivering  radiance 
which  the  sphere  emitted,  and  as  I  plunged  my 
eyes  into  its  depths  in  an  effort  to  see  what  lay 
there,  it  seemed  to  me  that  I  had  never  seen  black- 


THE    GLOVED    HAND  71 

ness  so  black.  As  I  stared  into  it,  with  straining 
eyes,  a  vague  form  grew  dimly  visible  beside  the 
glowing  sphere;  and  then  I  recoiled  a  little,  for 
suddenly  it  took  shape  and  I  saw  it  was  a  man. 

I  had  a  queer  fancy,  as  I  stood  there,  that  it 
was  really  a  picture  into  which  I  was  gazing  — 
one  of  Rembrandt's  —  for,  gradually,  one  detail 
after  another  emerged  from  the  darkness,  vague 
shadows  took  on  shape  and  meaning,  but  farther 
back  there  was  always  more  shadow,  and  farther 
back  still  more 

The  man  was  sitting  cross-legged  on  a  low  divan, 
his  hands  crossed  in  front  of  him  and  hanging 
limply  between  his  knees.  His  clothing  I  could 
see  but  vaguely,  for  it  was  merged  into  the  dark- 
ness about  him,  but  his  hands  stood  out  white 
against  it.  He  was  staring  straight  at  the  crystal, 
with  unwavering  and  unwinking  gaze,  and  sat  as 
motionless  as  though  carved  in  stone.  The  glow 
from  the  sphere  picked  out  his  profile  with  a  line 
of  light  —  I  could  see  the  high  forehead,  the 
strong,  curved  nose,  the  full  lips  shaded  by  a  faint 
moustache,  and  the  long  chin,  only  partially  con- 
cealed by  a  close-clipped  beard.  It  was  a  won- 
derful and  compelling  face,  especially  as  I  then 
saw  it,  and  I  gazed  at  it  for  a  long  moment. 

"  It's  the  adept,  I  suppose,"  said  Godfrey,  no 
longer  taking  care  to  lower  his  voice. 


72  THE    GLOVED    HAND 

It  sounded  unnaturally  loud  in  the  absolute  still- 
ness of  the  room,  and  I  looked  at  the  adept 
quickly,  but  he  had  not  moved. 

"  Can't  he  hear  you?"  I  asked. 

"  No  —  he  couldn't  hear  a  clap  of  thunder. 
That  is,  unless  he's  faking." 

I  looked  again  at  the  impassive  figure. 

"  He's  not  faking,"  I  said. 

"I  don't  know,"  and  Godfrey  shook  his  head 
sceptically.  *'  It  looks  like  the  real  thing  —  but 
these  fellows  are  mighty  clever.  Do  you  see  the 
other  victim?  There's  no  fake  about  it!  " 

"  I  see  no  one  else,"  I  said,  after  a  vain  scrutiny. 

"  Look  carefully  on  the  other  side  of  the  sphere. 
Don't  you  see  something  there?  " 

My  eyes  were  smarting  under  the  strain,  and 
for  a  moment  longer  I  saw  nothing ;  then  a  strange, 
grey  shape  detached  itself  from  the  blackness.  It 
was  an  ugly  and  repulsive  shape,  slender  below, 
but  swelling  hideously  at  the  top,  and  as  I  stared 
at  it,  it  seemed  to  me  that  it  returned  my  stare 
with  malignant  eyes  screened  by  a  pair  of  white- 
rimmed  glasses.  Then,  with  a  sensation  of  diz- 
ziness, I  saw  that  the  shape  was  swaying  gently 
back  and  forth,  in  a  sort  of  rhythm.  And  then, 
quite  suddenly,  I  saw  what  it  was,  and  a  chill  of 
horror  quivered  up  my  back. 

It  was  a  cobra. 


THE    GLOVED    HAND  73 

To  and  fro  it  swung,  to  and  fro,  its  staring  eyes 
fixed  upon  the  sphere,  its  spectacled  hood  hideously 
distended. 

The  very  soul  within  me  trembled  as  I  gazed 
at  those  unwinking  eyes.  What  did  they  see  in 
the  sphere?  What  was  passing  in  that  inscrut- 
able brain?  Could  it,  too,  reconstruct  the  past, 
read  the  mysteries  of  the  future 

Some  awful  power,  greater  than  my  will,  seemed 
stretching  its  tentacles  from  the  darkness:  I  felt 
them  dragging  at  me,  certain,  remorseless,  grow- 
ing stronger  and  stronger  .  .  . 

With  something  very  like  a  shriek  of  terror,  I 
tore  myself  away,  out  of  the  entry,  into  the  hall, 
to  the  stairs,  and  down  them  into  the  lighted  room 
below. 

And  as  I  stood  there,  gasping  for  breath,  God- 
frey followed  me,  and  I  saw  that  his  face,  too, 
was  livid. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

A   FRESH   ENIGMA 

GODFREY  met  my  eyes  with  a  little  deprecating 
smile,  put  his  torch  in  one  pocket,  took  a  handker- 
chief from  another,  and  mopped  his  forehead. 

"  Rather  nerve-racking,  wasn't  it,  Lester?  "  he 
remarked,  and  then  his  gaze  wandered  to  the 
couch,  and  he  stepped  toward  it  quickly. 

I  saw  that  a  change  had  come  in  Miss 
Vaughan's  condition.  Her  eyes  were  still  closed, 
but  her  body  no  longer  lay  inert  and  lifeless,  for 
from  moment  to  moment  it  was  shaken  by  a  se- 
vere nervous  tremor.  Godfrey's  face  was  very 
grave  as  he  looked  at  her. 

"Stop  stroking  her  wrists,  Swain,"  he  said; 
"  that  does  no  good,"  and  when  Swain,  without 
answering  or  seeming  to  hear,  kept  on  stroking 
them,  Godfrey  drew  the  hands  away,  took  Swain 
by  the  arm,  and  half-lifted  him  to  his  feet.  "  Lis- 
ten to  me,"  he  said,  more  sternly,  and  shook  him 
a  little,  for  Swain's  eyes  were  dull  and  vacant. 
"  I  want  you  to  sit  quietly  in  a  chair  for  a  while, 
till  you  get  your  senses  back.  Miss  Vaughan  is 
seriously  ill  and  must  not  be  disturbed  in  any  way. 

74 


THE    GLOVED    HAND  75 

I'm  going  to  get  a  doctor  and  a  nurse  at  once; 
they'll  do  what  needs  to  be  done.  Until  then,  she 
must  be  left  alone.  Understand?" 

Swain  nodded  vaguely,  and  permitted  Godfrey 
to  lead  him  to  a  chair  near  the  outer  door,  where 
he  sat  down.  As  his  hand  fell  across  the  arm 
of  the  chair,  I  could  see  that  a  little  blood  was 
still  oozing  from  the  wound  on  the  wrist.  Godfrey 
saw  it,  too,  and  picked  up  the  hand  and  looked 
at  it.  Then  he  laid  it  gently  down  again  and 
glanced  at  his  watch.  I  followed  his  example, 
and  saw  that  it  was  half-past  one. 

"  Have  you  nerve  enough  to  stay  here  half  an 
hour  by  yourself,  Lester?"  he  asked. 

"  By  myself?  "  I  echoed,  and  glanced  at  the 
dead  man  and  at  the  quivering  girl. 

"  I've  got  to  run  over  to  my  place  to  get  a  few 
things  and  do  some  telephoning,"  he  explained. 
"  We  must  get  a  doctor  up  here  at  once;  and  then 
there's  the  police  —  I'll  try  to  get  Simmonds.  Will 
you  stay?  " 

1  Yes,"  I  said,  "  of  course.  But  please  get 
back  as  soon  as  you  can." 

"  I  will,"  he  promised,  and,  after  a  last  look 
around  the  room,  stepped  out  upon  the  walk. 

I  went  to  the  door  and  looked  after  him  until 
the  sound  of  his  footsteps  died  away.  Then,  feel- 
ing very  lonely,  I  turned  back  into  the  room. 


7$  THE    GLOVED   HAND 

Those  regular  tremors  were  still  shaking  the  girl's 
body  in  a  way  that  seemed  to  me  most  alarming, 
but  there  was  nothing  I  could  do  for  her,  and  I 
finally  pulled  a  chair  to  Swain's  side.  He,  at 
least,  offered  a  sort  of  companionship.  He  was 
sitting  with  his  head  hanging  forward  in  a  way 
that  reminded  me  most  unpleasantly  of  the 
huddled  figure  by  the  table,  and  did  not  seem  to 
be  aware  of  my  presence.  I  tried  to  draw  him 
into  talk,  but  a  slight  nod  from  time  to  time  was 
all  I  could  get  from  him,  and  I  finally  gave  it  up. 
Mechanically,  my  hand  sought  my  coat  pocket  and 
got  out  my  pipe  —  yes,  that  was  what  I  needed; 
and,  sitting  down  in  the  open  doorway,  I  filled  it 
and  lighted  up. 

My  nerves  grew  calmer,  presently,  and  I  was 
able  to  think  connectedly  of  the  events  of  the  night, 
but  there  were  two  things  which,  looked  at  from 
any  angle,  I  could  not  understand.  One  was 
Swain's  dazed  and  incoherent  manner;  the  other 
was  the  absence  of  servants. 

As  to  Swain,  I  believed  him  to  be  a  well-poised 
fellow,  not  easily  upset,  and  certainly  not  subject 
to  attacks  of  nerves.  What  had  happened  to  him, 
then,  to  reduce  him  to  the  pitiable  condition  in 
which  he  had  come  back  to  us  over  the  wall,  and 
in  which  he  was  still  plunged?  The  discovery  of 
the  murder  and  of  Miss  Vaughan's  senseless  bocty 


THE    GLOVED    HAND  77 

might  have  accounted  for  it,  but  his  incoherence 
had  antedated  that  —  unless,  indeed,  he  knew  of 
the  murder  before  he  left  the  grounds.  That 
thought  gave  me  a  sudden  shock,  and  I  put  it  away 
from  me,  not  daring  to  pursue  it  farther. 

As  to.  the  house,  its  deserted  condition  seemed 
sinister  and  threatening.  It  was  absurd  to  sup- 
pose that  an  establishment  such  as  this  could  be 
carried  on  without  servants,  or  with  less  than  three 
or  four.  But  where  were  they?  And  then  I  re- 
membered that  Godfrey  and  I  had  not  completed 
our  exploration  of  the  house.  We  had  stopped 
at  the  gruesome  room  where  the  adept  and  his  ser- 
pent gazed  unwinking  into  the  crystal  sphere. 
There  was  at  least  one  suite  on  the  same  floor 
we  had  not  looked  into,  and  no  doubt  there  were 
other  rooms  on  the  attic  floor  above.  But  that  any 
one  could  have  slept  on  undisturbed  by  those 
piercing  screams  and  by  our  own  comings  and 
goings  seemed  unbelievable.  Perhaps  there  were 
separate  quarters  in  the  grounds  somewhere  — 

And  then,  without  conscious  will  of  my  own, 
I  felt  my  body  stiffen  and  my  fingers  grip  my 
pipe  convulsively.  A  slow  tremor  seemed  to 
start  from  the  end  of  my  spine,  travel  up  it,  and 
pass  off  across  my  scalp.  There  was  someone  in 
the  room  behind  me;  someone  with  gleaming  eyes 
fixed  upon  me ;  and  I  sat  there  rigidly,  straining  my 


78  THE    GLOVED    HAND 

ears,  expecting  I  knew  not  what  —  a  blow  upon 
the  head,  a  cord  about  the  neck.  ... 

A  rapid  step  came  up  the  walk  and  Godfrey 
appeared  suddenly  out  of  the  darkness. 

"  Well,  Lester,"  he  began;  but  I  sprang  to  my 
feet  and  faced  the  room,  for  I  could  have  sworn 
that  I  had  heard  behind  me  the  rustle  of  a  silken 
dress.  But  there  was  no  one  there  except  Swain 
and  Miss  Vaughan  and  the  dead  man  —  and  none 
of  them  had  moved. 

"  What  is  it?  "  Godfrey  asked,  stepping  past  me 
into  the  room. 

"  There  was  someone  there,  Godfrey,"  I  said. 
"  I'm  sure  of  it  —  I  felt  someone  —  I  felt  his  eyes 
on  me  —  and  then,  as  you  spoke,  I  heard  the  rustle 
of  a  dress." 

"Of  a  dress?" 

"  Or  of  a  robe,"  and  my  thoughts  were  on  the 
bearded  man  upstairs. 

Godfrey  glanced  at  me,  crossed  the  room,  and 
looked  out  into  the  hall.  Then  he  turned  back 
to  me. 

"  Well,  whoever  it  was,"  he  said,  and  I  could 
see  that  he  thought  my  ears  had  deceived  me,  "  he 
has  made  good  his  escape.  There'll  be  a  doctor 
and  a  nurse  here  in  a  few  minutes,  and  I  got  Sim- 
monds  and  told  him  to  bring  Goldberger  along. 
He  can't  get  here  for  an  hour  anyway.  And  I've 


THE    GLOVED    HAND  79 

got  a  change  here  for  Swain,"  he  added,  with  a  ges- 
ture toward  some  garments  he  carried  over  one 
arm;  "  also  a  bracer  to  be  administered  to  him," 
and  he  drew  a  flask  from  his  pocket  and  handed 
it  to  me.  "  Maybe  you  need  one,  yourself,"  he 
added,  smiling  drily,  "  since  you've  taken  to  hear- 
ing rustling  robes." 

"  I  do,"  I  said,  "  though  not  on  that  account," 
and  I  raised  the  flask  to  my  lips  and  took  a  long 
swallow. 

"  Suppose  you  take  Swain  up  to  the  bath-room," 
Godfrey  suggested,  "  and  help  him  to  get  cleaned 
up.  I'll  go  down  to  the  gate  and  wait  for  the 
doctor." 

:<  The  gate's  probably  locked." 

"  I  thought  of  that,"  and  he  drew  a  small  but 
heavy  hammer  from  his  pocket.  "  I'll  smash  the 
lock,  if  there's  no  other  way.  I'd  like  you  to  get 
Swain  into  shape  before  anyone  arrives,"  he  added. 
"  He's  not  a  prepossessing  object  as  he  is." 

"  No,  he  isn't,"  I  agreed,  looking  at  him,  and 
I  took  the  garments  which  Godfrey  held  out  to 
me.  Then  I  went  over  to  Swain  and  put  the  flask 
into  his  uninjured  hand.  "  Take  a  drink  of  that," 
I  said. 

He  did  not  understand  at  first;  then  he  put  the 
flask  to  his  lips  and  drank  eagerly  —  so  eagerly 
that  I  had  to  draw  it  away  He  watched  me 


8o  THE    GLOVED    HAND 

longingly  as  I  screwed  on  the  cap  and  slipped  it 
into  my  pocket;  and  there  was  more  colour  in  his 
face  and  a  brighter  light  in  his  eyes. 

"  Now,  come  along,"  I  said,  "  and  get  that  cut 
fixed  up." 

He  rose  obediently  and  followed  me  out  into 
the  hall.  Godfrey  had  preceded  us,  found  the 
light-switch  after  a  brief  search,  and  turned  it  on. 

;'  There's  a  switch  in  the  bath-room,  too,  no 
doubt,"  he  said.  u  Bring  him  down  again,  as  soon 
as  you  get  him  fixed  up.  You'll  find  some  cotton 
and  gauze  in  one  of  the  pockets  of  the  coat." 

Swain  followed  me  up  the  stair  and  into  the 
bath-room.  He  seemed  to  understand  what  I  in- 
tended doing,  for  he  divested  himself  of  coat  and 
shirt  and  was  soon  washing  arms  and  face  vigor- 
ously. Then  he  dried  himself,  and  stood  patiently 
while  I  washed  and  bandaged  the  cut  on  the  wrist. 
It  was  not  a  deep  one,  and  had  about  stopped 
bleeding. 

"Feel  better?"  I  asked. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  and  without  waiting  for  me  to 
tell  him,  slipped  into  the  clean  shirt  which  Godfrey 
had  brought,  attached  the  collar  and  tied  the  tie, 
all  this  quite  composedly  and  without  hesitation  or 
clumsiness.  Yet  I  felt,  in  some  indefinable  way, 
that  something  was  seriously  wrong  with  him.  His 
eyes  were  vacant  and  his  face  flabby,  as  though 


THE    GLOVED    HAND  81 

the  muscles  were  relaxed.     It  gave  me  the  feel- 
ing that  his  intelligence  was  relaxed,  too ! 

He  picked  up  his  own  coat,  but  I  stopped  him. 

"  Don't  put  that  on,"  I  said,  speaking  to  him 
as  I  would  have  spoken  to  a  child.  "  The  sleeve 
is  blood-stained  and  there's  a  long  tear  down  the 
side.  Take  this  one,"  and  I  held  out  the  light 
lounging-coat  Godfrey  had  brought  with  him. 

Swain  laid  down  his  own  garment  without  a 
word  and  put  on  the  other  one.  I  rolled  the  soiled 
garments  into  a  bundle,  took  them  under  my  arm, 
turned  out  the  lights,  and  led  the  way  downstairs. 

A  murmur  of  voices  from  the  library  told  me 
that  someone  had  arrived,  and  when  I  reached  the 
door,  I  saw  that  it  was  the  doctor  and  the  nurse. 
The  former  was  just  rising  from  a  rapid  examina- 
tion of  the  quivering  figure  on  the  couch. 

'  We  must  get  her  to  bed  at  once,"  he  said, 
turning  to  Godfrey.  "  Her  bedroom's  upstairs,  I 
suppose?  " 

'  Yes,"  said  Godfrey;  "  shall  I  show  you  the 
way?" 

The  doctor  nodded  and,  lifting  the  girl  carefully 
in  his  arms,  followed  Godfrey  out  into  the  hall. 
The  nurse  picked  up  a  medicine-case  from  the  floor 
and  followed  after. 

I  had  expected  Swain  to  rush  forward  to  the 
couch,  to  make  a  scene,  perhaps,  and  had  kept  my 


82  THE    GLOVED   HAND 

hand  upon  his  arm ;  but  to  my  astonishment  he  did 
not  so  much  as  glance  in  that  direction.  He  stood 
patiently  beside  me,  with  his  eyes  on  the  floor,  and 
when  my  restraining  hand  fell  away,  he  walked 
slowly  to  the  chair  in  which  he  had  been  sitting, 
and  dropped  into  it,  relaxing  limply  as  with 
fatigue. 

Godfrey  was  back  in  a  moment. 

"  That  doctor  was  the  nearest  one  I  could  find," 
he  said.  "  He  seems  to  be  all  right.  But  if  Miss 
Vaughan  isn't  better  in  the  morning,  I'll  get  a 
specialist  out." 

"  Godfrey,"  I  said,  in  a  low  tone,  "  there's  some- 
thing the  matter  with  Swain/'  and  I  motioned  to 
where  he  sat,  flaccid  and  limp,  apparently  half- 
asleep.  "  He  is  suffering  from  shock,  or  some- 
thing of  that  sort.  It's  something  more,  anyway, 
.than  over-wrought  nerves.  He  seems  to  be  only 
half-conscious." 

"  I  noticed  it,"  said  Godfrey,  with  a  little  nod. 
"  We'll  have  the  doctor  look  at  him  when  he  comes 
down,"  and  he  sank  wearily  into  a  chair.  "  This 
has  been  a  pretty  strenuous  night,  Lester." 

"Yes;  and  it  isn't  over  yet  I  wonder  what 
the  man  with  the  snake  is  doing?  " 

"  Still  staring  into  the  crystal,  no  doubt.  Do 
you  want  to  go  and  see?  " 

"  No,"  I  said  decidedly,  "  I  don't.     Godfrey," 


THE    GLOVED    HAND  83 

I  added,  "  doesn't  the  absence  of  servants  seem 
strange  to  you?  " 

'  Very  strange.  But,  I  dare  say,  we'll  find  them 
around  somewhere  —  though  they  seem  to  be 
sound  sleepers!  We  didn't  look  through  the 
whole  house,  you  know.  I'm  not  going  to,  either; 
I'm  going  to  let  the  police  do  that.  They  ought 
to  be  here  pretty  soon.  I  told  Simmonds  to  bring 
two  or  three  men  with  him." 

I  glanced  at  the  huddled  body  of  the  murdered 
man.  With  all  the  night's  excitements  and  sur- 
prises, we  had  not  even  touched  upon  that  mystery. 
Not  a  single  gleam  of  light  had  been  shed  upon 
it,  and  yet  it  was  the  centre  about  which  all  these 
other  strange  occurrences  revolved.  Whose  hand 
was  it  had  thrown  that  cord  about  the  throat  and 
drawn  it  tight?  What  motive  lay  behind?  Fear- 
some and  compelling  must  the  motive  be  to  drive 
a  man  to  such  a  crime !  Would  Simmonds  be  able 
to  divine  that  motive,  to  build  the  case  up  bit  by 
bit  until  the  murderer  was  found?  Would  God- 
frey? 

I  turned  my  head  to  look  at  him.  He  was  lying 
back  in  his  chair,  his  eyes  closed,  apparently  lost  in 
thought,  and  for  long  minutes  there  was  no  move- 
ment in  the  room. 

At  last  the  doctor  returned,  looking  more  cheer- 
ful than  when  he  had  left  the  room.  He  had 


84  THE    GLOVED    HAND 

given  Miss  Vaughan  an  opiate  and  she  was  sleep- 
ing calmly ;  the  nervous  trembling  had  subsided  and 
he  hoped  that  when  she  waked  she  would  be  much 
better.  The  danger  was  that  brain  fever  might 
develop;  she  had  evidently  suffered  a  very  severe 
shock. 

'  Yes,"  said  Godfrey,  "  she  discovered  her 
father  strangled  in  the  chair  yonder." 

"  I  saw  the  body  when  I  came  in,"  the  doctor 
remarked,  imperturbably.  "  So  it's  her  father, 
is  it?" 

"  Yes." 

"And  strangled,  you  say?" 

Godfrey  answered  with  a  gesture,  and  the  doc- 
tor walked  over  to  the  body,  glanced  at  the  neck, 
then  disengaged  one  of  the  tightly  clenched  hands 
from  the  chair-arm,  raised  it  and  let  it  fall.  I 
could  not  but  envy  his  admirable  self-control. 

"  How  long  has  he  been  dead?  "  Godfrey  asked. 

"  Not  more  than  two  or  three  hours,"  the  doc- 
tor answered.  "  The  muscles  are  just  beginning 
to  stiffen.  It  looks  like  murder,"  he  added,  and 
touched  the  cord  about  the  neck. 

"  It  is  murder." 

"  You've  notified  the  police?  " 

'  They  will  be  here  soon." 

I  saw  the  doctor  glance  at  Godfrey  and  then  at 


THE    GLOVED    HAND  85 

me,  plainly  puzzled  as  to  our  footing  in  the  house; 
but  if  there  was  a  question  in  his  mind,  he  kept 
it  from  his  lips  and  turned  back  again  to  the 
huddled  body. 

"  Any  clue  to  the  murderer?  "  he  asked,  at  last. 

"  We  have  found  none." 

And  then  the  doctor  stooped  suddenly  and 
picked  up  something  from  the  floor  beside  the 
chair. 

"  Perhaps  this  is  a  clue,"  he  said,  quietly,  and 
held  to  the  light  an  object  which,  as  I  sprang  to  my 
feet,  I  saw  to  be  a  blood-stained  handkerchief. 

He  spread  it  out  under  our  eyes,  handling  it 
gingerly,  for  it  was  still  damp,  and  we  saw  it  was 
a  small  handkerchief  —  a  woman's  handkerchief 
—  of  delicate  texture.  It  was  fairly  soaked  with 
blood,  and  yet  in  a  peculiar  manner,  for  two  of 
the  corners  were  much  crumpled  but  quite  un- 
stained. 

The  doctor  raised  his  eyes  to  Godfrey's. 

"  What  do  you  make  of  it?  "  he  asked. 

"  A  clue,  certainly,"  said  Godfrey;  "  but  scarcely 
to  the  murderer." 

The  doctor  looked  at  it  again  for  a  moment, 
and  then  nodded.  "  I'd  better  put  it  back  where 
I  found  it,  I  guess,"  he  said,  and  dropped  it  beside 
the  chair. 


86  THE    GLOVED   HAND 

And  then,  suddenly,  I  remembered  Swain.  1 
turned  to  find  him  still  drooping  forward  in  his 
chair,  apparently  half-asleep. 

"  Doctor,"  I  said,  "  there  is  someone  else  here 
who  is  suffering  from  shock,"  and  I  motioned 
toward  the  limp  figure.  "  Or  perhaps  it's  some- 
thing worse  than  that." 

The  doctor  stepped  quickly  to  the  chair  and 
looked  down  at  its  occupant.  Then  he  put  his 
hand  under  Swain's  chin,  raised  his  head  and  gazed 
intently  into  his  eyes.  Swain  returned  the  gaze, 
but  plainly  in  only  a  half-conscious  way. 

"  It  looks  like  a  case  of  concussion,"  said  the 
doctor,  after  a  moment.  I{  The  left  pupil  is  en- 
larged," and  he  ran  his  hand  rapidly  over  the 
right  side  of  Swain's  head.  "  I  thought  so,"  he 
added.  "  There's  a  considerable  swelling.  We 
must  get  him  to  bed."  Then  he  noticed  the  ban- 
daged wrist.  "What's  the  matter  here?"  he 
asked,  touching  it  with  his  finger. 

"  He  cut  himself  on  a  piece  of  glass,"  Godfrey 
explained.  "  You'd  better  take  him  over  to  my 
place,  where  he  can  be  quiet." 

"  I've  got  my  car  outside,"  said  the  doctor,  and 
together  he  and  I  raised  Swain  from  the  chair  and 
led  him  to  it. 

He  went  docilely  and  without  objection,  and  ten 
minutes  later,  was  safely  in  bed,  already  dozing 


THE    GLOVED    HAND  87 

off  under  the  influence  of  the  opiate  the  doctor 
had  given  him.  "  He'll  be  all  right  in  the  morn- 
ing," the  latter  assured  me.  '*  But  he  must  have 
got  quite  a  blow  over  the  head." 

"  I  don't  know  what  happened  to  him,"  I  an- 
swered. "  You'll  come  back  with  me,  won't 
you?" 

"  Yes;  I  may  be  useful,"  and  he  turned  the  car 
back  the  way  we  had  come.  "  Besides,"  he  added, 
frankly,  "  I'm  curious  to  learn  what  happened  in 
that  house  to-night." 

He  had  certainly  shown  himself  equal  to  emer- 
gencies, I  reflected;  and  I  liked  his  voice  and  his 
manner,  which  was  cool  and  capable. 

"  My  name  is  Lester,"  I  said.  "  I'm  a  lawyer 
staying  with  Mr.  Godfrey.  We  heard  Miss 
Vaughan  scream  and  ran  over  to  the  house,  but 
we  don't  know  any  more  than  you  do." 

"  My  name  is  Hinman,  and  I'm  just  a  country 
doctor,"  said  my  companion;  "  but  if  I  can  be  of 
any  help,  I  hope  you'll  call  upon  me.  Hello  1  "  he 
added,  as  we  turned  through  the  gate  into  the 
grounds  of  Elmhurst,  and  he  threw  on  the  brake 
sharply,  for  a  uniformed  figure  had  stepped  out 
into  the  glare  of  our  lamps  and  held  up  his  hand. 

The  police  had  arrived. 


CHAPTER    IX 

FIRST   STEPS 

WE  found  a  little  group  of  men  gathered  about  the 
chair  in  which  sat  the  huddled  body.  Two  of  them 
I  already  knew.  One  was  Detective-sergeant  Sim- 
monds,  and  the  other  Coroner  Goldberger,  both 
of  whom  I  had  met  in  previous  cases.  Simmonds 
was  a  stolid,  unimaginative,  but  industrious  and 
efficient  officer,  with  whom  Godfrey  had  long  ago 
concluded  an  alliance  offensive  and  defensive.  In 
other  words,  Godfrey  threw  what  glory  he  could 
to  Simmonds,  and  Simmonds  such  stories  as  he 
could  to  Godfrey,  and  so  the  arrangement  was  to 
their  mutual  advantage. 

Goldberger  was  a  more  astute  man  than  the 
detective,  in  that  he  possessed  a  strain  of  Semitic 
imagination,  a  quick  wit,  and  a  fair  degree  of  in- 
sight. He  was  in  his  glory  in  a  case  like  this. 
This  was  shown  now  by  his  gleaming  eyes  and  the 
trembling  hand  which  pulled  nervously  at  his  short, 
black  moustache.  Goldberger's  moustache  was  a 
good  index  to  his  mental  state  —  the  more  ragged 
it  grew,  the  more  baffling  he  found  the  case  in 
hand! 

88 


THE    GLOVED    HAND  89 

Both  he  and  Simmonds  glanced  up  at  our  en- 
trance and  nodded  briefly.  Then  their  eyes  went 
back  to  that  huddled  figure. 

There  were  three  other  men  present  whom  I  did 
not  know,  but  I  judged  them  to  be  the  plain-clothes- 
men  whom  Simmonds  had  brought  along  at  God- 
frey's suggestion.  They  stood  a  little  to  one  side 
until  their  superiors  had  completed  the  examina- 
tion. 

"  I  didn't  stop  to  pick  up  my  physician,"  Gold- 
berger  was  saying.  "  But  the  cause  of  death  is 
plain  enough." 

"  Doctor  Hinman  here  is  a  physician,"  I  said, 
bringing  him  forward.  "  If  he  can  be  of  any 
service.  .  .  ." 

Goldberger  glanced  at  him,  and  was  plainly 
favorably  impressed  by  Hinman's  dark,  eager  face, 
and  air  of  intelligence  and  self-control. 

"  I  shall  be  very  glad  of  Dr.  Hinman's  help," 
said  Goldberger,  shaking  hands  with  him. 
"  Have  you  examined  the  body,  sir?  " 

"  Only  very  casually,"  answered  Hinman. 
"  But  it  is  evident  that  the  cause  of  death  was 
strangulation." 

"  How  long  has  he  been  dead?  " 

Hinman  lifted  the  stiff  hand  again  and  ran  his 
fingers  along  the  muscles  of  the  arm. 

"  About  four  hours,  I  should  say." 


90  THE    GLOVED    HAND 

Goldberger  glanced  at  his  watch. 

"  That  would  put  his  death  at  a  little  before 
midnight.  The  murderer  must  have  come  in  from 
the  grounds,  crept  up  behind  his  victim,  thrown  the 
cord  about  his  neck  and  drawn  it  tight  before  his 
presence  was  suspected.  The  victim  would  hardly 
have  remained  seated  in  the  chair  if  he  had  known 
his  danger.  After  the  cord  was  round  his  throat, 
he  had  no  chance  —  he  could  not  even  cry  out. 
There's  one  thing  I  don't  understand,  though,"  he 
added,  after  a  moment.  "  Where  did  that  blood 
come  from?"  and  he  pointed  to  the  dark  spots 
on  the  collar  of  the  white  robe. 

Hinman  looked  up  with  a  little  exclamation. 

"  I  forgot,"  he  said.  "  Did  you  find  the  hand- 
kerchief? No,  I  see  you  didn't,"  and  he  pointed 
to  where  it  lay  on  the  floor.  "  I  noticed  it  when  I 
first  looked  at  the  body." 

Without  a  word,  Goldberger  bent  and  picked 
up  the  blood-stained  handkerchief.  Then  he  and 
Simmonds  examined  it  minutely.  Finally  the  cor- 
oner looked  at  Godfrey,  and  his  eyes  were  very 
bright. 

"  There  can  be  only  one  inference,"  he  said/ 
"  The  dead  man  is  not  bleeding  —  the  cord  did 
not  cut  the  flesh.  The  blood,  then,  must  have 
come  from  the  murderer.  He  must  have  been  in- 


THE    GLOVED   HAND  91 

jured  in  some  way  —  bleeding  profusely.  Look 
at  this  handkerchief  —  it  is  fairly  soaked." 

I  am  sure  that,  at  that  instant,  the  same  thought 
was  in  Godfrey's  mind  which  flashed  through 
mine,  for  our  eyes  met,  and  there  was  a  shadow  in 
his  which  I  knew  my  own  reflected.  Then  I 
glanced  at  Hinman.  He  was  looking  at  the  hand- 
kerchief thoughtfully,  his  lips  tightly  closed.  I 
could  guess  what  he  was  thinking,  but  he  said 
nothing. 

Goldberger  laid  the  handkerchief  on  the  table, 
at  last,  and  turned  back  to  the  body.  He  bent 
close  above  it,  examining  the  blood  spots,  and  when 
he  stood  erect  again  there  was  in  his  face  a  strange 
excitement. 

"  Lend  me  your  glass,  Simmonds,"  he  said,  and 
when  Simmonds  handed  him  a  small  pocket  mag- 
nifying-glass,  he  unfolded  it  and  bent  above  the 
stains  again,  scrutinising  each  in  turn.  At  last 
he  closed  the  glass  with  an  emphatic  little  snap. 
'  This  case  isn't  going  to  be  so  difficult,  after  all," 
he  said.  "Those  spots  are  finger-prints." 

With  an  exclamation  of  astonishment,  Sim- 
monds took  the  glass  and  examined  the  stains; 
then  he  handed  it  to  Godfrey,  who  finally  passed 
it  on  to  me.  Looking  through  it,  I  saw  that 
Goldberger  was  right.  The  stains  had  been  made 


92  THE    GLOVED    HAND 

by  human  fingers.  Most  of  them  were  mere 
smudges,  but  here  and  there  was  one  on  which 
faint  lines  could  be  dimly  traced. 

;'  They  seem  to  be  pretty  vague,"  I  remarked, 
passing  the  glass  on  to  Hinman. 

:'  They're  plenty  clear  enough  for  our  pur- 
pose," said  Goldberger;  "besides  they  will  come 
out  much  clearer  in  photographs.  It's  lucky  this 
stuff  is  so  smooth  and  closely-woven,"  he  added, 
fingering  a  corner  of  the  robe,  "or  we  wouldn't 
have  got  even  those.  It's  as  hard  and  fine  as 
silk." 

"  How  do  you  suppose  those  marks  came  there, 
Mr.  Goldberger?  "  Godfrey  asked,  and  there  was 
in  his  tone  a  polite  scepticism  which  evidently  an- 
noyed the  coroner. 

"  Why,  there's  only  one  way  they  could  come 
there,"  Goldberger  answered  impatiently.  "  They 
were  put  there  by  the  murderer's  fingers  as  he 
drew  the  cord  tight.  Do  you  see  anything  im- 
probable in  that?  " 

"  Only  that  it  seems  too  good  to  be  true,"  God- 
frey answered,  quietly,  and  Goldberger,  after  look- 
ing at  him  a  moment,  turned  away  with  a  shrug 
of  the  shoulders. 

"  See  if  you  can  get  the  cord  loose,  Simmonds," 
he  said. 

The  cord  was  in  the  form  of  a  running  noose, 


THE    GLOVED    HAND  93 

which  had  been  knotted  to  hold  it  in  place  after 
being  drawn  tight.  Although  it  had  not  cut  the 
flesh  of  the  neck,  it  had  sunk  deeply  into  it,  and 
Simmonds  worked  at  the  knot  for  some  moments 
without  result.  I  suspect  his  fingers  were  not  quite 
as  steady  as  they  might  have  been ;  but  it  was  evi- 
dently an  intricate  knot. 

;'  That's  a  new  one  on  me,"  he  said,  at  last. 
"  I  can't  get  it  loose." 

Godfrey  bent  close  above  it  and  looked  at  it. 

"  It  is  a  peculiar  knot,"  he  agreed.  "  If  you'll 
permit  a  suggestion,  Mr.  Goldberger,  you'll  cut 
the  cord  and  leave  the  knot  as  it  is.  It  may  help 
us  to  find  the  man  who  made  it." 

'  You're  right,"  agreed  Goldberger,  promptly. 
"  Cut  the  cord,  Simmonds." 

Simmonds  got  out  his  pocket-knife,  opened  it 
and  slipped  the  blade  under  the  cord,  cut  it,  and 
pulled  it  out  of  the  ridge  of  flesh.  He  looked  at 
it  a  moment,  and  then  handed  it  to  Goldberger. 
The  latter  examined  it  carefully. 

"  It's  stained  with  blood,  too,"  he  remarked, 
and  passed  it  on  to  Godfrey. 

"  It  looks  like  curtain-cord,"  Godfrey  said,  and 
made  a  little  tour  of  the  room.  "  Ah !  "  he  added, 
after  a  moment,  from  the  door  opening  into  the 
grounds.  "  See  here !  " 

He  was  holding  up  the  end  of  the  cord  by  which 


94  THE    GLOVED    HAND 

the  curtains  covering  the  upper  part  of  the  double 
doors  were  controlled. 

"  You  were  right,  Mr.  Coroner,"  he  said,  "  in 
thinking  that  the  murderer  entered  by  this  door, 
for  he  stopped  here  and  cut  off  a  piece  of  this 
cord  before  going  on  into  the  room." 

"  Then  he  must  also  have  stopped  to  make  it 
into  a  noose,"  remarked  Goldberger.  "  If  he  did 
that,  he  was  certainly  a  cool  customer.  It's  a 
wonder  his  victim  didn't  hear  the  noise  he  made." 

"  Making  a  knot  isn't  a  noisy  operation,"  God- 
frey pointed  out;  "  besides,  the  back  of  the  chair 
was  toward  the  door.  And  then,  of  course,  it's 
possible  his  victim  did  hear  him." 

"  But  then  he  would  have  jumped  from  the 
chair,"  objected  Simmonds. 

"  Not  necessarily.  Suppose  you  were  sitting 
there,  and  heard  a  noise,  and  looked  around  and 
saw  me  standing  here,  you  wouldn't  jump  from 
the  chair,  would  you?" 

"No;  I'd  have  no  reason  to  jump  from  you." 

"  Perhaps  Vaughan  thought  he  had  no  reason 
to  jump  from  the  man  he  saw  —  if  he  saw  anyone. 
I'm  inclined  to  think,  however,  that  he  didn't  sus- 
pect anyone  else  was  in  the  room  until  he  felt 
the  cord  about  his  throat." 

"  And,  of  course,"  said  Goldberger,  taking  the 
cord  again  and  looking  at  it,  "  it  was  while  the 


THE    GLOVED    HAND  95 

murderer  was  making  it  into  a  noose  with  his 
blood-stained  fingers  that  he  stained  it  in  that 
way.  Don't  you  agree,  Mr.  Godfrey?  " 

"  That  is  a  possible  explanation,"  Godfrey  con- 
ceded. 

"  But  why  did  he  make  this  second  knot?  "  in- 
quired the  coroner;  "  the  knot  which  holds  the 
noose  tight  and  prevents  it  from  slipping?  " 

"  If  he  hadn't  knotted  it  like  that  he  would 
have  had  to  stand  there  holding  it  until  his  victim 
was  dead.  As  it  was,  he  didn't  have  to  wait." 

I  shivered  a  little  at  the  thought  of  the  scoundrel 
calmly  tying  the  knot  to  secure  his  noose,  and  then 
leaving  his  victim  to  twitch  his  life  out. 

"  It's  no  little  trick  to  tie  a  knot  like  that," 
Godfrey  added,  thoughtfully.  "  I  should  like  to 
study  it." 

"All  right,"  agreed  Goldberger;  "you  can 
have  it  whenever  you  want  it,"  and  he  got  a  heavy 
manila  envelope  out  of  his  pocket  and  placed  the 
cord  carefully  inside.  "  Now  we  must  get  that 
robe  off.  We  can't  run  any  risk  of  having  those 
finger-prints  smeared." 

It  was  a  difficult  job  and  a  revolting  one,  for 
the  body  had  stiffened  into  its  huddled  posture, 
but  at  last  the  robe  was  removed  and  the  body 
itself  lying  at  full  length  on  its  back  on  the  couch. 
Seen  thus,  with  the  light  full  on  it,  the  face  was 


96  THE    GLOVED    HAND 

horrible,  and  Goldberger  laid  his  handkerchief 
over  the  swollen  and  distorted  features,  while,  at 
a  sign  from  him,  Simmonds  pulled  down  the  por- 
tiere from  the  inner  door  and  placed  it  over  the 
body.  Then  the  coroner  picked  up  the  robe  and 
held  it  out  at  arms'  length. 

"  What  kind  of  a  freak  dress  is  this,  anyway?  " 
he  asked. 

"  It's  a  robe,"  said  Godfrey.  "  Mr.  Vaughan 
was  a  mystic." 

"A  what?" 

"  A  mystic  —  a  believer  in  Hinduism  or  some 
other  Oriental  religion." 

"Did  he  dress  this  way  all  the  time?" 

"  I  believe  so.  It  is  probably  the  dress  of  his 
order." 

Goldberger  rolled  the  robe  up  carefully,  and 
said  nothing  more;  but  I  could  see  from  his  ex- 
pression that  he  had  ceased  to  wonder  why 
Vaughan  had  come  to  a  strange  and  violent  end. 
Surely  anything  might  happen  to  a  mystic !  Then 
he  placed  the  blood-stained  handkerchief  in  an- 
other envelope,  and  finally  put  his  hand  in  his 
pocket  and  brought  out  half  a  dozen  cigars. 

"  Now,"  he  said,  "  let's  sit  down  and  rest 
awhile.  Simmonds  tells  me  it  was  you  who  called 
him,  Mr.  Godfrey.  How  did  you  happen  to  dis- 
cover the  crime  ?  " 


THE    GLOVED    HAND  97 

The  question  was  asked  carelessly,  but  I  could 
feel  the  alert  mind  behind  it.  I  knew  that  God- 
frey felt  it,  too,  from  the  way  in  which  he  told 
the  story,  for  he  told  it  carefully,  and  yet  with 
an  air  of  keeping  nothing  back. 

Of  the  mysterious  light  he  said  nothing,  but, 
starting  with  my  finding  of  the  letter  and  sum- 
moning Swain  to  receive  it,  told  of  the  arrange- 
ments for  the  rendezvous,  dwelling  upon  it  lightly, 
as  a  love-affair  which  could  have  no  connection 
with  the  tragedy.  He  passed  on  to  his  own  ar- 
rival from  the  city,  to  Swain's  return  from  the 
rendezvous,  and  finally  to  the  screams  which  had 
reached  us,  and  to  the  discovery  we  had  made 
when  we  burst  into  the  house. 

"  I  summoned  Dr.  Hinman  immediately,"  he 
added,  "  for  Miss  Vaughan  seemed  to  be  in  a 
serious  condition;  then  I  called  Simmonds,  and 
suggested  that  he  stop  for  you,  Mr.  Coroner,  for 
I  knew  that  the  case  would  interest  you.  Dr. 
Hinman  arrived  perhaps  half  an  hour  ahead  of 
you,  and  had  Miss  Vaughan  put  to  bed  at  once. 
And  I  guess  you  know  the  rest,"  he  concluded. 

We  had  all  listened  intently.  I  was  pretty 
sure  that  Simmonds  would  make  no  inferences 
which  Godfrey  wished  to  avoid;  but  I  feared  the 
more  penetrating  mind  of  the  coroner.  His  first 
question  proved  that  I  was  right  to  do  so. 


98  THE    GLOVED    HAND 

"Where  is  this  man  Swain?"  he  asked. 

"  He  was  suffering  from  the  shock,"  said  God- 
frey, "  and  Lester  and  Dr.  Hinman  took  him  over 
to  my  place  and  put  him  to  bed.  That's  where 
they  were  when  you  got  here." 

"  He  seemed  to  be  suffering  from  a  slight  con- 
cussion," Hinman  explained.  "  There  was  a 
swelling  on  one  side  of  his  head,  as  though  some 
one  had  struck  him,  and  the  pupils  of  his  eyes 
were  unsymmetrical.  He  had  also  a  cut  on  the 
wrist,"  he  added,  after  an  instant's  hesitation. 

"  Ah !  "  commented  Goldberger,  with  a  glance 
at  Godfrey.  "Had  it  been  bleeding?" 

"  He  cut  himself  when  crossing  the  wall,"  God- 
frey explained;  "  a  mere  scratch,  but  I  believe  it 
did  bleed  a  good  deal." 

"Ah!"  said  Goldberger  again;  and  then  he 
turned  to  the  doctor.  "  Did  I  understand  you 
to  say  that  he  went  to  sleep  ?  " 

"  He  certainly  did.  I  gave  him  a  good  strong 
opiate  to  make  sure  of  it." 

"  Do  you  think  he'll  sleep  till  morning?  " 

"  He'll  sleep  nine  or  ten  hours,   at  least." 

"  Then  that's  all  right,"  said  Goldberger,  and 
settled  back  in  his  chair  again.  "  But  didn't  any- 
body live  in  this  house  except  that  old  man  and  his 
daughter?  Aren't  there  any  servants?" 

"  There  must  be  some  somewhere  about,"  an- 


THE    GLOVED    HAND  99 

swered  Godfrey,  to  whom  the  question  was  ad- 
dressed; "but  Lester  and  I  looked  through  the 
lower  floor  and  part  of  the  upper  one  and  didn't 
find  any.  There's  a  bell  there  by  the  door,  but 
nobody  answered  when  I  rang.  We  didn't  have 
time  to  go  all  over  the  house.  We  did  find  one 
thing,  though,"  he  added,  as  if  by  an  afterthought. 

"What  was  that?" 

'  There's  an  adept  in  one  of  the  rooms  up- 
stairs." 

Goldberger  sat  up  and  stared  at  him. 

"  An  adept?  "  he  repeated.     "  What's  that?  " 

"  An  expert  in  mysticism.  I  judge  that 
Vaughan  was  his  pupil." 

"  Do  you  mean  he's  a  Hindu?  "  asked  the  cor- 
oner, as  though  that  would  explain  everything. 

But  Godfrey  was  having  his  revenge. 

"  I  don't  know  whether  he's  a  Hindu  or  not," 
he  said,  airily.  "  I  didn't  get  a  very  good  look 
at  him." 

"  What  was  he  doing?  "  Goldberger  demanded. 

"  He  was  just  sitting  there." 

Again  Goldberger  stared  at  him,  this  time  sus- 
piciously. 

"  But,  good  heavens,  man !  "  he  cried.  '  That 
was  three  or  four  hours  ago !  You  don't  suppose 
he's  sitting  there  yet!" 

"  Yes,"  said  Godfrey  drily,  "  I  think  he  is." 


ioo          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

Goldberger's  face  flushed,  and  he  sprang  to  his 
feet  impatiently. 

"  Show  me  the  room,"  he  commanded. 

"  Glad  to,"  said  Godfrey  laconically,  and  led 
the  way  out  into  the  hall. 

The  whole  crowd  tailed  along  after  him.  As 
I  rose  to  follow,  I  saw  that  the  outside  world  was 
turning  grey  with  the  approaching  dawn. 

The  nurse,  hearing  our  footsteps  on  the  stairs, 
looked  out  in  alarm,  and  held  up  a  warning  finger. 
Godfrey  paused  for  a  word  with  her. 

"  How  is  she?  "  he  asked. 

"  Sleeping  quietly,"  said  the  nurse;  "  but  please 
don't  make  any  more  noise  than  you  can  help." 

"  We  won't,"  Godfrey  promised,  and  crossed 
the  hall  to  the  door  leading  into  the  little  entry. 
Then  he  paused  and  looked  around  at  Goldberger. 
"  Better  go  slow  here,"  he  cautioned.  '  The 
adept  has  a  pet  cobra." 

"  A  snake?" 
'  The  deadliest  snake  in  the  world." 

Goldberger  drew  back  a  little,  as  did  all  the 
others. 

"  I  don't  think  it  will  bite  us,  though,"  added 
Godfrey,  cheerfully,  "  if  we  don't  crowd  it.  It's 
sitting  there,  too,"  and  he  opened  the  outer  door, 
passed  through,  and  held  back  the  curtain  at  the 
farther  end. 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          101 

I  was  just  behind  Goldberger  and  Simmonds, 
and  I  heard  their  gasp  of  amazement,  as  they  saw 
what  lay  beyond. 

The  scene  had  not  changed  in  the  slightest  de- 
tail. The  crystal  sphere  still  softly  glowed,  with 
intangible  shadows  flitting  across  its  surface;  the 
adept  still  sat  cross-legged  staring  into  its  depths; 
opposite  him,  the  cobra,  its  hood  distended, 
swayed  slowly  to  and  fro. 

But  as  we  stood  there  staring,  a  single  deli- 
cate ray  of  sunlight  coming  through  a  pin-hole  in 
the  curtained  window,  struck  the  sphere  and 
seemed  to  extinguish  it.  The  glow  within  it 
flickered  and  fluttered  and  finally  vanished,  and  it 
hung  there  dull  and  grey.  An  instant  later,  the 
motionless  figure  raised  its  arms  high  in  air,  with 
a  motion  somehow  familiar;  then  it  got  slowly  to 
its  feet,  crossed  to  the  window,  drew  back  the  cur- 
tain and  flung  wide  the  shutter. 

The  sun  was  just  peeping  over  the  trees  to  the 
east,  and  for  a  second  its  light  blinded  me.  Then 
I  saw  the  adept  bowing  low  before  it,  his  arms 
still  extended.  Once,  twice,  thrice  he  bowed,  as 
before  a  deity,  while  we  stood  there  staring. 
Then  he  turned  slowly  toward  us. 

"  Enter,  friends,"  he  said  calmly.  "  The  peace 
of  the  Holy  One  be  on  you,  and  his  love  within 
your  hearts!  " 


CHAPTER   X 

THE   WHITE   PRIEST   OF   SIVA 

THE  adept  was  an  impressive  figure,  as  he 
stood  there  with  the  sun  behind  him,  throwing  a 
yellow  nimbus  around  his  head.  The  robe  he 
wore  was  of  a  rich  purple,  and  gave  an  added  ef- 
fect of  height  and  dignity  to  a  figure  already  tall. 
His  hair  was  dark  and  crinkled  like  wind-swept 
water,  his  complexion  dark,  but  with  an  under- 
blush  of  red  in  the  cheeks.  His  lips  were  scarlet 
and  his  eyes  coal-black  and  of  an  arresting  bril- 
liance. The  whole  effect  he  gave  was  of  trans- 
cendent energy  and  magnetism,  nor  did  he  show 
the  slightest  fatigue  from  his  long  vigil. 

His  eyes  swept  our  faces,  as  we  stood  crowded 
there  in  the  doorway.  He  did  not  seem  surprised. 
If  there  was  any  expression  in  his  face  except 
courteous  inquiry,  it  was  one  of  carefully  sup- 
pressed amusement. 

"  Enter,  friends,"  he  repeated.  "  What  is  it 
you  desire  ?  " 

His  voice  was  rich  and  deep,  and  he  spoke  with 
a  peculiar  intonation,  but  without  accent.  It  was 
something  of  a  shock  to  hear  the  ordinary  words 

102 


THE    GLOVED    HAND  103 

of  English  speech  coming  from  his  lips,  for  they 
seemed  formed  to  utter  prophecies  in  unknown 
tongues. 

Goldberger  took  one  step  into  the  room,  and 
then  stopped  abruptly.  Following  his  eyes,  I  saw 
that  the  cobra  had  also  awakened  from  its  trance, 
and  was  regarding  us  steadily  and  hissing 
slightly.  The  adept  smiled  as  he  saw  us  shrink 
back. 

"  Do  not  fear,"  he  said.  "  Come,  Toto,"  and 
stepping  across  the  room,  he  lifted  the  cobra  in 
one  hand  and  held  it  a  moment  close  to  him,  gently 
stroking  the  distended  hood.  The  snake  curled 
itself  about  his  arm  and  seemed  to  cuddle  to  him, 
but  it  kept  its  eyes  fixed  on  us.  I  could  not  but 
smile  at  the  incongruity  of  its  name.  Toto  was 
well  enough  for  a  French  poodle,  but  for  a  cobra ! 

After  a  moment,  the  adept  lifted  the  lid  of  a 
round  basket  which  stood  on  the  floor  near  the 
divan,  dropped  the  snake  gently  into  it,  and  fas- 
tened down  the  lid.  Then  he  clapped  his  hands 
softly,  and  an  instant  later  the  curtains  at  the  rear 
of  the  room  parted  and  a  strange  figure  appeared 
between  them. 

It  was  the  figure  of  a  man,  not  over  five  feet 

tall  and  very  thin.     He  was  almost  as  dark  as  a 

full-blooded  negro,  and  the  white  burnoose  which 

*  was  thrown  about  his  shoulders  and  covered  him 


io4          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

to  just  below  the  hips,  made  him  look  even  darker. 
His  legs  were  bare  and  seemed  to  be  nothing  but 
skin  and  bone.  The  flat-nosed  face,  with  its  full 
lips  and  prominent  eyes,  reminded  me  of  an  idol 
I  had  seen  pictured  somewhere. 

The  newcomer  bowed  low  before  the  adept, 
and,  at  a  sign  from  him,  picked  up  Toto's  basket 
and  disappeared  with  it  through  the  curtains.  He 
had  not  even  glanced  in  our  direction.  The  adept 
turned  back  to  us. 

"  Now,  friends,"  he  said,  "  will  you  not 
enter?  " 

Goldberger  led  the  way  into  the  room  and 
stopped  to  look  about  it.  The  walls  were  hung 
with  black  velvet,  so  arranged  that  windows  and 
doors  could  be  covered  also,  and  the  room  was 
absolutely  devoid  of  furniture,  save  for  a  low,  cir- 
cular divan  in  the  centre  of  which  stood  the  crystal 
sphere,  supported,  as  I  saw  now,  by  a  slender 
pedestal. 

"  I  have  a  few  questions  to  ask  you,"  began 
Goldberger  at  last,  in  a  voice  deferential  despite 
himself. 

"  Proceed,  sir,"  said  the  adept,  courteously. 

"  Do  you  know  that  Mr.  Vaughan  is  dead?  " 

The   adept  made  a  little   deprecating  gesture. 

"  Not  dead,"  he  protested.  "  A  man  does  not 
die.  His  soul  rejoins  the  Over-soul,  that  is  all. 


THE    GLOVED    HAND  105 

Yes,  I  know  that  at  midnight  the  soul  of  my  pupil 
passed  over." 

"  How  did  you  learn  that?  "  Goldberger  de- 
manded. 

"  I  saw  it  in  the  sphere,"  replied  the  adept 
calmly. 

"Where  were  you  at  the  time?" 

"  I  was  gazing  at  the  sphere." 

"  Do  you  mean,"  asked  Goldberger  incredu- 
lously, "  that  you  sat  for  five  hours  and  more  star- 
ing at  that  thing?  " 

"  My  vigil  began  at  sundown,"  said  the  adept, 
with  a  slight  smile.  "  Last  night  was  the  White 
Night  of  Siva.  It  must  be  spent  in  meditation  by 
all  who  follow  him." 

Goldberger  worried  his  moustache  with  nerv- 
ous fingers,  as  he  stared  at  the  adept,  plainly  at 
a  loss  how  to  proceed. 

"  Perhaps,"  ventured  Godfrey,  softly,  "  your 
crystal  could  give  us  some  further  information 
which  we  very  much  desire." 

The  adept  turned  his  dark  eyes  on  the  speaker, 
and  it  seemed  to  me  that  they  glittered  more 
coldly,  as  though  they  recognised  an  adversary. 

'  What  information,  sir?  "  he  asked. 

"  Information  as  to  the  manner  of  Mr. 
Vaughan's  passing  —  can  you  tell  us  anything  of 
that?" 


106          THE    GLOVED   HAND 

The  adept  shook  his  head. 

"  I  only  saw  the  soul  as  it  passed  over.  I 
knew,  however,  that  it  had  been  torn  from  the 
body  by  violence." 

"How  did  you  know  that?"  broke  in  Gold- 
berger. 

"  Because  of  its  colour,"  answered  the  adept; 
and  then,  when  he  saw  our  benumbed  expressions, 
he  explained.  "  Souls  which  pass  in  peace  are 
white;  souls  which  the  body  has  driven  forth  by 
its  own  hands  are  black;  souls  which  are  torn  from 
the  body  by  an  alien  hand  are  red.  My  pupil's 
soul  was  red." 

I  could  see  that  Goldberger  did  not  know 
whether  to  snort  with  derision  or  to  be  impressed. 
He  ended  by  smiling  feebly.  As  for  me,  I  ad- 
mit I  was  impressed. 

"  When  an  alien  hand,  as  you  put  it,  is  used," 
said  the  coroner,  "  we  call  it  murder  in  this  coun- 
try, and  the  law  tries  to  get  hold  of  the  alien 
and  to  send  his  soul  after  his  victim's.  That's 
what  we  are  trying  to  do  now.  We  are  officers 
of  the  law." 

The  adept  bowed. 

"  Any  assistance  I  can  give  you,"  he  said,  softly, 
"  I  shall  be  glad  to  give ;  though  to  do  murder, 
as  you  call  it,  is  not  always  to  do  wrong." 

"  Our  law  doesn't  make  such  nice  distinctions," 


THE    GLOVED    HAND  107 

said  Goldberger,  drily.  "  May  I  ask  your  pro- 
fession? " 

"  I  am  a  White  Priest  of  Siva,"  said  the  adept, 
touching  his  forehead  lightly  with  the  fingers  of 
his  left  hand,  as  in  reverence. 

"Who  is  Siva?" 

;<  The  Holy  One,  the  Over-soul,  from  whom  we 
come  and  to  whom  we  all  return." 

Again  Goldberger  worried  his  moustache. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  at  last,  "  until  the  mystery  is 
cleared  up,  I  must  ask  you  not  to  leave  this  house." 

"  I  have  no  wish  to  leave  it,  sir." 

"  And  the  other  fellow  —  the  fellow  who  took 
away  the  snake  —  where  was  he  last  night?" 

"  He  slept  in  a  small  room  opening  into  this 
one." 

"  May  I  look  into  it?" 

"  Certainly,"  and  the  adept  swept  aside  the 
curtains. 

The  room  into  which  we  looked  was  not  more 
than  tenxfeet  square,  and  empty  of  furniture,  ex- 
cept for  a  mat  in  the  middle  of  the  floor  and  three 
or  four  baskets  set  against  the  wall.  On  the  mat 
was  squatted  the  attendant,  his  legs  crossed  with 
feet  uppermost,  and  his  hands  held  palm  to  palm 
before  him.  On  the  floor  in  front  of  him  were 
what  looked  to  me  like  a  strip  of  cloth,  a  bone  and 
a  tooth.  He  did  not  raise  his  eyes  at  our  en- 


io8          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

trance,  but  sat  calmly  contemplating  these  relics. 

Goldberger's  moustache  lost  a  few  more  hairs 
as  he  stood  staring  down  at  this  strange  fig- 
ure. 

"What  are  those  things?  His  grandmother's 
remains?"  he  asked,  at  last. 

"  Those  are  the  attributes  of  Kali,"  said  the 
adept  gravely,  as  one  rebuking  blasphemy. 

'  Very  interesting,  no  doubt,"  commented  the 
coroner  drily.  "  Would  it  disturb  the  gentleman 
too  much  to  ask  him  a  few  questions?  " 

"  He  speaks  no  English,  but  I  shall  be  glad  to 
translate  for  you." 

The  coroner  thought  this  over  for  a  moment, 
and  then  shook  his  head. 

"  No,"  he  said;  "  I'll  wait  for  the  court  inter- 
preter. You  might  tell  him,  though,  that  there 
will  be  officers  of  the  law  on  duty  below,  and  that 
he  is  not  to  leave  the  house." 

"  I  will  caution  him,"  answered  the  adept,  and 
let  the  curtain  fall,  as  we  passed  out. 

"  I  suppose  there  are  some  other  servants  some- 
where about  the  place?"  asked  Goldberger. 

"  There  are  three  —  they  sleep  on  the  floor 
above." 

"Are  they  Hindus,  too?" 

"  Oh,  no,"  and  the  adept  smiled.  "  Two  of 
them  are  German  and  the  other  is  Irish." 


THE    GLOVED    HAND  109 

The  coroner  reddened  a  little,  for  the  words 
somehow  conveyed  a  subtle  rebuke. 

"  That  is  all  for  to-day,"  he  said;  "  unless  Mr. 
Simmonds  has  some  questions?"  and  he  looked 
at  his  companion. 

But  Simmonds,  to  whom  all  these  inquiries  had 
plainly  been  successive  steps  into  the  darkness, 
shook  his  head. 

"  Then  we  will  bid  you  good-morning,"  added 
Goldberger,  still  a  little  on  his  dignity.  "  And 
many  thanks  for  your  courtesy." 

The  adept  responded  with  a  low  bow  and  with 
a  smile  decidedly  ironical.  I,  at  least,  felt  that 
we  had  got  the  worst  of  the  encounter. 

Goldberger,  without  a  word,  led  the  way  up 
the  stair  that  mounted  fo  the  attic  story,  and  there 
soon  succeeded  in  routing  out  the  three  servants. 
The  Germans  proved  to  be  a  man  and  wife,  well 
past  middle  age,  the  former  the  gardener  and  the 
latter  the  cook.  Erin  was  represented  by  a  red- 
haired  girl  who  was  the  housemaid.  All  of  them 
were  horrified  when  told  their  master  had  been 
murdered,  but  none  of  them  could  shed  any  light 
on  the  tragedy.  They  had  all  been  in  bed  long 
before  midnight,  and  had  not  been  disturbed  by 
any  of  the  noises  of  the  night. 

This  could  be  the  more  readily  understood 
when,  as  a  little  investigation  showed,  we  found 


no          THE    GLOVED   HAND 

that  they  had  all  slept  with  doors  locked  and 
windows  closed  and  shuttered.  Any  sounds  from 
the  house  would  really  have  to  penetrate  two  doors 
to  reach  them,  for  their  rooms  were  at  the  end 
of  an  entry,  closed  by  an  outer  door.  As  to  the 
windows,  it  was  the  rule  of  the  house  that  they 
should  always  be  closed  and  tightly  shuttered  dur- 
ing the  night.  They  knew  of  no  especial  reason 
for  the  rule,  though  the  Irish  girl  remarked  that, 
with  heathen  in  the  house  and  lunatics,  there  was 
no  telling  how  the  nights  were  spent. 

They  were  all  evidently  innocent  of  any  con- 
nection with  the  tragedy;  but  Goldberger,  for 
some  ridiculous  reason,  brought  them  downstairs 
with  him  and  made  them  look  at  their  master's 
body.  This  had  no  result  except  to  send  the 
Irish  girl  into  hysterics,  and  Hinman  for  a  few 
minutes  had  another  patient  on  his  hands. 

"  Well,"  said  Goldberger,  passing  his  hand 
wearily  across  his  forehead,  "  I  guess  there's  noth- 
ing more  to  be  done.  And  I'm  dead  tired.  I 
had  just  got  to  bed  when  Simmonds  called  me. 
I'll  set  the  inquest  for  ten  o'clock  to-morrow  morn- 
ing, and  I'll  hold  it  here  in  this  room.  We'll 
want  you  here,  Mr.  Godfrey,  and  you,  Mr.  Lester. 
And  —  oh,  yes,"  he  added  suddenly,  "we'll  want 
that  Mr.  Swain,  whose  story  I  haven't  heard  yet. 
No  doubt  of  his  appearing  is  there?  " 


THE    GLOVED    HAND  in 

"  Absolutely  none,"   I  assured  him. 

"  I  could  put  him  under  guard,  of  course,"  said 
Goldberger,  pensively,  "  for  I'm  sure  he'll  prove 
to  be  a  very  important  witness;  but  if  you 
will  be  personally  responsible  for  him,  Mr. 
Lester.  .  .  ." 

"  I  will,"  I  agreed,  and  Goldberger  nodded. 

"  Have  him  here  at  ten  o'clock,  then,"  he 
said. 

"  Dr.  Hinman  would  better  see  him  again  to- 
day," I  suggested. 

"  I'll  call  about  four  o'clock  this  afternoon," 
the  doctor  promised;  and,  leaving  Goldberger  to 
complete  his  arrangements  and  Simmonds  to  post 
his  men,  Godfrey  and  I  stepped  out  upon  the 
lawn. 

It  was  after  five  o'clock  and  the  sun  was  already 
high.  It  scarcely  seemed  possible  that,  only  six 
hours  before,  Swain  had  crossed  the  wall  for  the 
first  time ! 

;'  We'd  better  go  out  as  we  came,"  Godfrey 
said,  and  turned  across  the  lawn.  He  walked 
with  head  down  and  face  puckered  with  thought. 

"  Can  you  make  anything  of  it?  "  I  asked,  but 
he  only  shook  his  head. 

We  soon  reached  the  ladder,  and  Godfrey 
paused  to  look  about  him.  The  shrubbery  was 
broken  in  one  place,  as  though  some  heavy  body 


ii2          THE   GLOVED   HAND 

had  fallen  on  it,  and  this  was  evidently  the  mark 
of  Swain's  wild  jump  from  the  wall. 

At  last,  Godfrey  motioned  me  to  precede  him, 
and,  when  I  was  over,  reached  one  ladder  down 
to  me  and  descended  to  my  side.  We  replaced 
the  ladders  against  the  shed,  and  then  walked  on 
toward  the  house.  As  we  turned  the  corner,  we 
found  Mrs.  Hargis  standing  on  the  front  porch. 

"  Well,  you  are  out  early!  "  she  said. 

"  Yes,"  laughed  Godfrey;  "  fact  is,  we  haven't 
been  to  bed  yet.  Will  you  have  something  to  eat, 
Lester,  before  you  turn  in?" 

A  glass  of  milk  was  all  I  wanted;  and  five 
minutes  later  I  mounted  to  my  room.  I  glanced 
in  for  a  moment  at  Swain,  who  seemed  to  be  sleep- 
ing peacefully;  and  then  darkened  my  room  as 
well  as  I  could  and  tumbled  into  bed.  I  must 
have  dropped  asleep  the  moment  my  head  touched 
the  pillow,  for  I  remember  nothing  more  until  I 
opened  my  eyes  to  find  Godfrey  standing  over 
me. 


CHAPTER    XI 

SWAIN'S  STORY 

"  I  HATE  to  wake  you,  Lester,"  Godfrey  said, 
smiling,  "  but  it's  nearly  four  o'clock.  Dr.  Hin- 
man  will  be  here  before  long,  and  if  you're  going 
to  hear  Swain's  story,  you'll  have  to  be  getting 
up." 

I  sat  up  in  bed  at  once,  all  trace  of  sleepiness 
vanished. 

"How  is  he?"  I  asked. 

"  He  seems  to  be  all  right.  He's  been  up  for 
some  time.  I  haven't  said  anything  to  him  about 
last  night —  I  wanted  the  doctor  to  see  him  first; 
besides,  I  thought  you  ought  to  be  present." 

"  I'll  be  down  right  away,"  I  said,  and  twenty 
minutes  later,  I  found  Godfrey  and  Swain  sitting 
together  on  the  front  porch.  As  Swain  returned 
my  greeting,  I  was  relieved  to  see  that  his  eyes 
were  no  longer  fixed  and  staring,  but  seemed  quite 
normal. 

"  Mrs.  Hargis  has  your  breakfast  ready,"  said 
Godfrey,  "  and  I  think  I'll  join  you.  Will  you 
come,  Mr.  Swain?  " 

II  No,  thank  you,"  Swain  replied.     "  I  had  my 

"3 


n4          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

breakfast  only  about  an  hour  ago.  I'll  just  sit 
here,  if  you  don't  mind." 

"  All  right,"  said  Godfrey,  *'  we  won't  be 
long,"  and  together  we  went  back  to  the  dining- 
room. 

Mrs.  Hargis  was  there,  and  greeted  us  as 
though  stopping  out  till  dawn  and  breakfasting  at 
four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  were  the  most  or- 
dinary things  in  the  world.  A  copy  of  the  Record 
was  lying,  as  usual,  on  the  table,  and  a  black  head- 
line caught  my  eye: 

WORTHINGTON    VAUGHAN 
MURDERED 


RICH     RECLUSE      STRANGLED     TO 

DEATH    AT    His    HOME   IN 

THE  BRONX 


I  glanced  at  Godfrey  in  surprise. 
4  Yes,"  he  said,  reddening  a  little,  "  I  was  just 
in  time  to  'phone  the  story  in  for  the  last  edition. 
I  called  the  doctor  first,  though,  Lester  —  you 
must  give  me  credit  for  that!  And  it  was  a  beau- 
tiful scoop !  " 

"  What  time  did  you  get  up?  "  I  asked. 

"  About  noon.     I  sent  down  the  full  story  for 


THE    GLOVED    HAND  115 

to-morrow  morning's  paper  just  before  I  called 
you." 

"  Any  developments?  " 

"  None  that  I  know  of.  Of  course,  I  haven't 
heard  Swain's  story  yet." 

"  Godfrey,"  I  said,  "  it  seems  to  me  that  this 
thing  is  going  to  look  bad  for  Swain  —  I  think 
Goldberger  suspects  him  already.  A  good  deal 
depends  upon  his  story." 

"  Yes,  it  does,"  Godfrey  agreed. 

We  finished  the  meal  in  silence.  It  was  not 
a  long  one,  for  I,  at  least,  was  anxious  to  get  back 
to  Swain.  As  we  rejoined  him  on  the  porch,  Dr. 
Hinman's  car  came  up  the  drive.  He  got  out 
and  shook  hands  with  us.  As  he  greeted  Swain, 
I  saw  him  glance  anxiously  into  his  eyes  —  and 
saw  also  that  the  glance  reassured  him. 

"  You're  feeling  better  to-day,"  he  said,  sitting 
down  by  Swain's  side. 

"  Yes,"  said  Swain  quietly,  "  I'm  feeling  all 
right  again." 

"  How  is  Miss  Vaughan,  doctor?  "  I  asked. 

Swain  jerked  round  toward  the  doctor. 

"Is  Miss  Vaughan  ill?"  he  demanded. 

"  She  had  a  shock  last  night,"  answered  the 
doctor,  slowly;  "but  she's  getting  along  nicely. 
She'll  have  to  be  kept  quiet  for  a  few  days." 

I  was  looking  at  Swain  curiously.     He  was  rub- 


n6          THE    GLOVED   HAND 

bing  his  head  perplexedly,  as  though  trying  to 
bring  some  confused  memory  to  the  surface  of  his 
mind. 

"  I  seem  to  remember,"  he  said,  "  that  Miss 
Vaughan  fainted,  and  that  I  picked  her  up." 
Then  he  stopped  and  stared  at  us.  "  Is  her  father 
dead?" 

'  Yes,"  I  said,  and  he  fell  to  rubbing  his  head 
again. 

I  glanced  at  Hinman,  and  he  nodded  slightly. 
I  took  it  for  assurance  that  Swain  might  be  ques- 
tioned. Godfrey,  who  had  gone  indoors  to  get 
some  cigars,  came  back  with  a  handful.  All  of 
us,  including  Swain,  lighted  up. 

"  Now,  Swain,"  I  began,  "  I  want  you  to  tell 
us  all  that  you  remember  of  last  night's  happen- 
ings. Both  Mr.  Godfrey  and  Dr.  Hinman  are  in 
my  confidence  and  you  may  speak  freely  before 
them.  I  want  them  to  hear  your  story,  because  I 
want  their  advice." 

There  was  a  pucker  of  perplexity  on  Swain's 
face. 

"  I've  been  trying,  ever  since  I  woke  up  this 
morning,  to  straighten  out  my  remembrance  of 
last  night,"  he  began,  slowly;  "but  I  haven't  suc- 
ceeded very  well.  At  least,  everything  seems  to 
stop  right  in  the  middle." 

"  Go  ahead,"  I  said,  "  and  tell  us  what  you  do 


THE    GLOVED   HAND  117 

remember.  Maybe  it  will  grow  clearer  as  you 
recall  it,  or  maybe  we  can  fill  in  the  gaps.  Begin 
at  the  moment  you  went  over  the  wall.  We  know 
everything  that  happened  up  to  that  time.  You 
remember  that  clearly,  don't  you?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Swain.  "  I  remember  all 
that,"  and  he  settled  back  in  his  chair.  "  Well, 
after  I  went  down  the  ladder,  I  found  myself  in 
a  clump  of  shrubbery,  and  beyond  that  was  a  path. 
I  knew  that  the  arbour  where  I  was  to  meet  Miss 
Vaughan  was  in  the  corner  of  the  grounds  at  the 
back  next  to  Mr.  Godfrey's  place,  so  I  turned  back 
along  the  wall,  leaving  the  path,  which  curved 
away  from  it.  It  was  very  dark  under  the  trees, 
and  I  had  to  go  slowly  for  fear  of  running  into 
one  of  them.  But  I  finally  found  the  arbour.  I 
struck  a  match  to  assure  myself  that  it  was  empty, 
and  then  sat  down  to  wait.  Once  or  twice  I 
fancied  I  heard  some  one  moving  outside,  but  it 
was  only  the  wind  among  the  trees,  I  guess,  for 
it  was  fully  half  an  hour  before  Miss  Vaughan 
came." 

I  could  see  how  his  hand  was  trembling  on  the 
arm  of  his  chair,  and  he  paused  a  moment  to  col- 
lect himself. 

"  What  Miss  Vaughan  told  me,"  he  went  on, 
at  last,  and  I  saw  that  of  the  details  of  the  meeting 
he  did  not  intend  to  speak,  "  convinced  me  that 


n8          THE    GLOVED   HAND 

her  father  was  quite  mad  —  much  worse  than  I 
had  suspected.  I  knew,  of  course,  that  he  was  a 
student  of  the  supernatural,  but  since  the  coming 
of  this  yogi.  .  .  ." 

"  This  what?  "  Hinman  interrupted. 

"  A  yogi,"  Swain  answered,  turning  toward 
him,  "  is,  as  nearly  as  I  can  make  out,  a  sort  of 
high  priest  of  Hinduism.  He  knows  all  its 
secrets,  and  is  supposed  to  be  able  to  do  all  sorts 
of  supernatural  things.  This  fellow  who  lived 
with  Mr.  Vaughan  is  a  yogi.  Mr.  Vaughan  was 
his  disciple." 

"Where  did  the  yogi  come  from?"  Godfrey 
asked. 

"  I  don't  know.  I  don't  think  Miss  Vaughan 
knows.  He  arrived,  with  his  attendant,  about  six 
months  ago ;  and  since  then  things  have  gone  from 
bad  to  worse.  There  has  been  crystal-gazing  and 
star-worship  and  necromancy  of  all  sorts.  I  con- 
fess I  didn't  understand  very  much  of  it,"  he  added. 
"  It  was  all  so  wild  and  weird;  but  it  ended  not 
only  in  Mr.  Vaughan's  becoming  a  convert  to 
whatever  religion  it  is  the  yogi  practises,  but  in  a 
determination  that  his  daughter  should  become 
a  priestess  of  the  cult.  It  was  from  that  she 
wished  me  to  help  her  to  escape." 

He  stopped  and  again  rubbed  his  head  slowly. 

"  As  I  tell  it,"  he  went  on,  at  last,  "  it  sounds 


THE    GLOVED    HAND  119 

absurd  and  unbelievable;  but  as  she  told  it,  there 
in  the  darkness,  with  those  strange  rustlings 
round  us,  it  sent  the  chills  up  and  down  my  spine. 
Perhaps  those  Orientals  do  know  more  about  the 
supernatural  than  we  give  them  credit  for;  at  any 
rate,  I  know  that  Miss  Vaughan  had  been  im- 
pressed with  the  yogi's  power.  It  fascinated  and 
at  the  same  time  horrified  her.  She  said  he  had 
a  hideous  snake,  a  cobra,  which  he  petted  as  she 
would  pet  a  kitten.  .  .  ." 

His  voice  broke  off  again,  and  he  wiped  the 
perspiration  from  his  forehead.  I  myself  felt  de- 
cidedly nervous.  Godfrey  threw  away  his  cigar, 
which  had  broken  in  his  fingers. 

"  At  any  rate,"  Swain  went  on,  "  I  was  so  upset 
by  what  she  told  me  that  I  could  think  of  nothing 
to  do  except  to  beg  her  to  come  away  with  me  at 
once.  I  remembered  my  promise  to  you,  Mr. 
Lester,  but  I  was  sure  you  would  approve.  I  told 
her  about  you  —  that  it  was  into  your  hands  the 
letter  had  fallen.  She  said  she  had  seen  you  look- 
ing at  her  from  a  tree  and  had  known  at  a  glance 
that  she  could  trust  you.  You  didn't  tell  me  you 
were  in  a  tree,"  he  added. 

'  Yes,"  I  said,  awkwardly.  "  I  was  just  taking 
a  little  look  over  the  landscape.  Rather  foolish  of 
me,  wasn't  it?  " 

"  Well,  it  was  mighty  fortunate,  anyway.     She 


120          THE    GLOVED   HAND 

had  written  the  letter,  but  she  had  no  idea  how 
she  was  going  to  get  it  to  me." 

"  You  mean  she  couldn't  go  out  when  she 
wanted  to?  "  demanded  Godfrey. 

"  I  gathered  from  what  she  told  me,"  said 
Swain,  his  face  flushing  with  anger,  "  that  she  has 
been  practically  a  prisoner  ever  since  the  yogi  ar- 
rived. Besides,  even  if  she  had  succeeded  in  mail- 
ing the  letter,  it  wouldn't  have  reached  me  until 
too  late." 

"  In  what  way  too  late?  " 

"  Her  father  seems  to  have  had  a  sudden  turn 
for  the  worse  yesterday;  he  became  almost  violent 
in  insisting  that  she  consent  to  his  plan.  He  told 
her  that  the  life  of  his  own  soul  as  well  as  of 
hers  depended  upon  it.  He  threatened  —  I  don't 
know  what.  The  yogi  talked  to  her  afterwards. 
He,  of  course,  believed,  or  pretended  to  believe, 
as  her  father  did;  moreover,  he  told  her  that  her 
father  would  certainly  suffer  a  serious  mental  shock 
if  she  refused,  perhaps  a  fatal  one.  In  despair, 
she  finally  agreed,  on  the  condition  that  she  be 
given  three  days  in  which  to  prepare  herself.  If 
she  did  not  hear  from  me  in  that  time,  she  had 
made  up  her  mind  to  consent." 

Swain  stopped  again,  and  I  lay  back  in  my  chair, 
wondering  if  such  things  were  possible  in  this 
twentieth  century,  here  within  the  boundaries  of 


THE    GLOVED   HAND  121 

Greater  New  York!  My  brain  reeled  at  the  ab- 
surdity of  it ! 

"  Vaughan  was  undoubtedly  suffering  from 
mania,"  said  Dr.  Hinman,  in  a  low  voice.  "  The 
symptoms,  as  Mr.  Swain  describes  them,  are  un- 
mistakable." 

"  It  was  that  argument  I  used,"  said  Swain. 
"  I  told  her  that,  since  he  was  clearly  mad,  she 
must,  in  self-defence,  place  herself  beyond  his 
reach.  But  she  refused  to  leave  him.  Then,  I 
argued,  in  kindness  to  him  she  must  have  him 
committed  to  some  institution  where  he  would  be 
taken  care  of,  and  where  he  might,  in  time,  re- 
gain his  sanity.  I  told  her  that  it  would  be  crimi- 
nal folly  to  permit  him  to  remain  longer  under  the 
influence  of  the  yogi.  She  had  to  agree  with  me; 
and  she  finally  consented  to  sign  an  affidavit  to  the 
facts  as  I  have  told  them,  and  a  petition  asking 
that  a  commission  be  appointed  to  examine  her 
father.  You  were  to  have  drawn  up  the  papers 
to-day,  Mr.  Lester,  and  I  was  to  have  taken  them 
to  her  for  signature  to-night." 

4  That  would  have  settled  the  matter,"  said 
Godfrey,  thoughtfully.  "  It's  too  bad  it  wasn't 
settled  in  that  way.  What  else  happened,  Mr. 
Swain?" 

"  Miss  Vaughan  had  grown  very  nervous,  with 
all  this  discussion,  and  at  last  she  sprang  to  her 


122          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

feet  and  said  she  must  go,  or  her  father  would 
discover  her  absence.  We  rose  to  leave  the 
arbour,  and  at  that  instant,  a  white-robed  figure 
sprang  to  her  side,  seized  her  and  tore  her  away 
'from  me.  I  was  too  startled  for  an  instant  to 
resist;  then,  as  I  started  toward  them,  Marjorie 
pushed  me  back. 

"  '  Go !  Go ! '  she  cried.  '  It  is  my  father  I ' 
"  But  he  stopped  me.  In  a  voice  shaking  and 
husky  with  rage,  he  warned  me  that  if  I  entered 
the  place  again,  my  life  would  be  forfeit.  I  can't 
repeat  the  horrible  things  he  said.  I  could  see 
his  eyes  gleaming  like  a  wild  beast's.  He  cursed 
me.  I  had  never  been  cursed  before,"  and  Swain 
smiled  thinly,  "  and  I  confess  it  wasn't  pleasant. 
Then  he  led  his  daughter  away. 

"  I  stood  staring  after  them.  I  didn't  know 
what  to  do.  I  felt  like  a  madman  myself.  I  sat 
down  and  tried  to  collect  my  thoughts.  I  saw 
that  some  new  plan  must  be  made  —  that  there 
was  no  hope  of  meeting  Marjorie  again.  I  was 
sick  with  fear  for  her;  I  thought  of  following  to 
the  house  and  compelling  her  to  come  with  me 
at  once.  And  then,  suddenly,  I  saw  two  eyes 
gleaming  at  me.  They  were  not  human  eyes  — 
they  were  too  close  together  —  and  they  were 
swaying  gently  back  and  forth  in  the  air,  about  a 
foot  from  the  ground.  I  gazed  at  them,  fasci- 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          123 

jated,  and  then  I  heard  a  soft,  low  whistle,  fol- 
lowed by  a  faint  hissing,  as  the  eyes  fell  for- 
ward. 

"  In  a  flash,  I  knew  what  it  was  —  the  cobra ;  I 
knew  why  it  was  there  —  Vaughan  had  said  my 
life  was  forfeit.  I  sprang  up  with  a  shriek, 
dashed  along  the  seat  to  the  door  and  out  into 
the  darkness.  I  struck  my  head  against  some- 
thing —  a  tree,  I  suppose ;  but  I  kept  on,  and 
reached  the  wall  and  got  over  it  somehow  —  it 
is  all  confused,  after  that.  I  seem  to  remember 
hearing  Marjorie  scream,  and  finding  her  lying 
beside  her  father,  who  was  dead  —  but  I  can't  put 
things  together,"  and  he  rubbed  his  head  help- 
lessly. 

"  I'll  put  them  together  for  you,"  said  God- 
frey. "  When  you  ran  into  the  tree,  you  suffered 
a  partial  concussion.  It's  lucky  it  wasn't  total,  or 
Toto  would  have  got  you  1  " 

"Toto?" 

"  That,  I  believe,  is  the  cobra's  name,"  ex- 
plained Godfrey,  with  a  smile ;  "  unless,  of  course, 
there  are  two  of  them."  And  he  told  Swain  in 
detail  of  the  events  which  had  followed. 

Swain  listened  with  staring  eyes.  I  did  not 
blame  him.  Indeed,  I  felt  that  my  own  eyes  were 
staring  a  little,  though  I  already  knew  the  story. 
But  Godfrey,  with  a  gift  of  narration  born  of  long 


124          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

newspaper  experience,  told  it  in  a  way  that  made 
its  horror  salient  and  left  one  gasping. 

"  There  is  one  question  I  want  to  ask  you, 
Swain,"  he  said,  in  conclusion,  "  and  I  want  you 
to  think  carefully  before  you  answer  it.  During 
your  altercation  with  Mr.  Vaughan,  did  you  at 
any  time  touch  him?  " 

"  Touch  him?  No,  of  course  not,"  and  Swain 
shook  his  head  decidedly. 

"You  are  sure  of  that?"  asked  Godfrey  ear- 
nestly. 

"  Perfectly  sure,"  said  Swain,  looking  at  him 
in  astonishment.  "  I  was  never  within  three  feet 
of  him." 

Godfrey  sprang  to  his  feet  with  a  gesture  of 
relief. 

"  I  seem  to  need  a  cocktail,"  he  said,  in  another 
tone.  "  Isn't  that  the  prescription  for  all  of  us, 
doctor?  " 

"  Yes,"  assented  Hinman,  smiling,  "  and,  after 
that,  complete  change  of  subjectl" 


CHAPTER   XII 

GUESSES   AT   THE    RIDDLE 

WE  tried  to  follow  Dr.  Hinman's  prescription,  but 
not  with  any  great  success,  for  it  is  difficult  to  talk 
about  one  thing  and  think  about  another.  So  the 
doctor  took  himself  off,  before  long,  and  Swain 
announced  that  he  himself  would  have  to  return 
to  the  city.  He  had  come  out  without  so  much  as 
a  tooth-brush,  he  pointed  out;  his  trousers  were 
in  a  lamentable  condition,  and,  while  Godfrey's 
coat  was  welcome,  it  was  far  from  a  perfect  fit. 

"  Which  reminds  me,"  he  added,  "  that  I  don't 
know  what  has  become  of  my  own  coat  and  shirt." 

I  looked  at  Godfrey  quickly. 

"  No,  I  forgot  them,"  he  said.     "  They're  over 
in  the  library  at  Elmhurst,"  he  added  to  Swain. 
'  You  can  get  them  to-morrow." 

"  I  shall  have  to  be  there  to-morrow,  then?" 
'  Yes,  at  the  inquest;  I've  promised  to  produce 
you  there,"  I  said. 

"At  what  time?  " 

"  You'd  better  be  there  by  ten." 
'  Very  well ;  that's  all  the  more  reason  for  get- 
ting back  to  my  base  of  supplies.     If  I  went  on 

125 


126          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

the  stand  looking  like  this,  the  jury  would  probably 
think  I  was  the  murderer!  "  he  added,  laughing. 

My  answering  smile  was  decidedly  thin.  God- 
frey did  not  even  try  to  force  one. 

"  Wait  a  few  minutes,"  he  suggested,  "  and  I'll 
take  you  down  in  my  car.  I'll  try  to  get  back 
early,  Lester,"  he  added,  apologetically.  "  I'm 
far  from  an  ideal  host  —  but  you'll  find  some 
books  on  my  desk  that  may  interest  you  —  I  got 
them  up  to-day.  Take  a  look  at  them  after  din- 
ner." 

He  went  back  to  bring  out  his  car,  and  Swain  sat 
down  again  beside  me. 

"  Mr.  Lester,"  he  said,  in  a  low  voice,  "  I  hope 
you  haven't  forgotten  your  promise." 

"What  promise?" 

"  To  put  Miss  Vaughan  in  a  safe  place  and  to 
look  after  her  interests." 

"  No,"  I  said,  "  I  haven't  forgotten.  I  am 
going  to  ask  to  see  her  after  the  inquest  to-mor- 
row. If  she  wishes  us  to  represent  her,  we  will." 

"  And  to  protect  her,"  he  added,  quickly. 
u  She  hasn't  even  a  mad  father  now  1  " 

"  She's  safe  enough  for  the  present,"  I  pointed 
out.  "  Dr.  Hinman  has  employed  another  nurse, 
so  that  one  is  with  her  all  the  time." 

"  I  won't  be  satisfied,"  said  Swain,  "  till  you  get 
her  out  of  that  house  and  away  from  those  damned 


THE    GLOVED   HAND          127 

Hindus.  One  nurse,  or  even  two,  wouldn't  stop 
them." 

"  Stop  them  from  what?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  and  he  twisted  his  fingers 
helplessly. 

"  Well,  the  police  will  stop  them.  There  are 
three  or  four  men  on  duty  there,  with  orders  to  let 
no  one  in  or  out." 

His  face  brightened. 

"  Ah,  that's  better,"  he  said.  "  I  didn't  know 
that.  How  long  will  they  be  there?  " 

"  Till  after  the  inquest,  anyway." 

"  And  you  will  see  Miss  Vaughan  after  the  in- 
quest? " 

"  Yes." 

"  And  urge  her  to  go  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Royce?  " 

"  Yes  —  but  I  don't  think  she'll  need  much  urg- 
ing. I'll  get  a  note  from  Mrs.  Royce.  I'll  tele- 
phone to  Mr.  Royce  now,  and  you  can  stop  and 
get  the  note  as  you  come  up  in  the  morning." 

Godfrey's  car  glided  up  the  drive  and  stopped 
at  the  porch.  Swain  held  out  his  hand  and  clasped 
mine  warmly. 

'Thank  you,  Mr.  Lester,"  he  said;  and  a 
moment  later  the  car  turned  into  the  highway  and 
passed  from  sight. 

Then  I  went  in,  got  Mr.  Royce  on  the  'phone, 
and  give  him  a  brief  outline  of  the  incidents  of 


128          THE   GLOVED    HAND 

the  night  before.  He  listened  with  an  exclama- 
tion of  astonishment  from  time  to  time,  and  as- 
sented heartily  when  I  suggested  that  Miss 
Vaughan  might  be  placed  in  Mrs.  Royce's  care 
temporarily. 

"  She's  a  beautiful  girl,"  I  concluded,  "  and 
very  young.  I  agree  with  Swain  that  she  mustn't 
be  left  alone  in  that  house." 

"  Certainly  she  mustn't,"  said  my  partner. 
"  I'll  have  Mrs.  Royce  write  the  note,  and  get  a 
room  ready  for  her." 

"  Of  course,"  I  said,  "  it's  possible  she  won't 
come  —  though  I  believe  she'll  be  glad  to.  Or 
there  may  be  a  family  lawyer  who  will  want  to 
look  after  her.  Only  she  didn't  appear  to  know 
of  any  when  she  was  talking  to  Swain." 

"  Well,  bring  her  along  if  you  can,"  said 
Mr.  Royce.  "  We'll  be  glad  to  have  her.  And 
take  your  time  about  coming  back,  if  you're  needed 
up  there.  We're  getting  along  all  right." 

I  thanked  him,  and  hung  up ;  and  presently  Mrs. 
Hargis  came  to  summon  me  to  dinner.  That  meal 
over,  I  went  in  to  Godfrey's  desk  to  see  what  the 
books  were  he  had  suggested  that  I  look  at. 
There  was  quite  a  pile  of  them,  and  I  saw  that  they 
all  related  to  mysticism  or  to  the  religions  of  India. 
There  was  Sir  Monier  Williams's  "  Brahmanism 


129 

and  Hinduism,"  Hopkins's  "  The  Religions  of 
India,"  a  work  on  crystallomancy,  Mr.  Lloyd 
Tuckey's  standard  work  on  "  Hypnotism  and  Sug- 
gestion," and  some  half  dozen  others  whose  titles 
I  have  forgotten.  And  as  I  looked  at  them,  I 
began  to  understand  one  reason  for  Godfrey's 
success  as  a  solver  of  mysteries  —  no  detail  of  a 
subject  ever  escaped  him. 

I  lit  my  pipe,  sat  down,  and  was  soon  deep  in 
the  lore  of  the  East.  I  must  confess  chat  I  did  not 
make  much  of  it.  In  that  maze  of  superstition, 
the  most  I  could  do  was  to  pick  up  a  thread  here 
and  there.  The  yogi  had  referred  to  the  White 
Night  of  Siva,  and  I  soon  found  out  that  Siva  is 
one  of  the  gods  of  Hinduism  —  one  of  a  great  tril- 
ogy: Brahma  the  creator,  Vishnu  the  preserver, 
and  Siva  the  destroyer.  He  had  also  spoken  of 
the  attributes  of  Kali,  and,  after  a  little  further 
search,  I  discovered  that  Kali  was  Siva's  wife  — 
a  most  unprepossessing  and  fiendish  female. 

But  when  I  passed  on  to  Hinduism  itself,  and 
tried  to  understand  its  tenets  and  its  sects,  I  soon 
found  myself  out  of  my  depth.  They  were  so 
jumbled,  so  multitudinous,  and  so  diverse  that  I 
could  get  no  clear  idea  of  them.  I  read  of  the 
Vedas,  the  Upanishads,  the  Brahmanas;  of  meta- 
physical abstractions  too  tenuous  to  grasp;  of 


I3o          THE   GLOVED   HAND 

karna  or  action,  of  maya  or  illusion,  and  I  know 
not  what  "  tangled  jumble  of  ghosts  and  demons, 
demi-gods,  and  deified  saints,  household  gods, 
lage  gods,  tribal  gods,  universal  gods,  with  their 
countless  shrines  and  temples  and  din  of  discordant 
rites."  At  last,  in  despair,  I  gave  it  up,  and  turned 
to  the  book  on  crystallomancy. 

Here,  at  least,  was  something  comprehensible,  if 
not  altogether  believable,  and  I  read  with  interest 
of  the  antiquity  of  crystal-gazing  as  a  means  of 
inducing  hallucination  for  the  purpose  of  seeking 
information  not  to  be  gained  by  any  normal  means. 
I  read  of  its  use  in  China,  in  Assyria,  in  Egypt, 
in  Arabia,  in  India,  in  Greece  and  Rome;  of  how 
its  practitioners  in  the  Middle  Ages  were  looked 
upon  as  heretics  and  burnt  at  the  stake  or  broken 
on  the  wheel;  of  the  famous  Dr.  Dee,  and  so  down 
to  the  present  time.  The  scryers  or  seers  some- 
times used  mirrors,  sometimes  vessels  filled  with 
water,  but  usually  a  polished  stone,  and  beryl  was 
especially  esteemed. 

The  effect  of  gazing  at  these  intently  for  a  time 
was  to  abstract  the  mind  from  normal  sensory  im- 
pressions, and  to  induce  a  state  of  partial  hypnosis 
during  which  the  scryer  claimed  he  could  perceive 
in  the  crystal  dream-pictures  of  great  vividness, 
scenes  at  a  distance,  occurrences  of  the  past,  and  of 
the  future. 


THE   GLOVED   HAND          131 

I  was  still  deep  in  this,  when  I  heard  a  step 
outside,  the  door  opened,  and  Godfrey  came  in. 
TIe  smiled  when  he  saw  what  I  was  doing. 

"  How  have  you  been  getting  along? "  he 
asked. 

"  Not  very  well,"  and  I  threw  the  book  back 
on  the  table.  "  The  crystal-gazing  isn't  so  bad  — 
one  can  understand  that;  but  the  jumble  of  ab- 
stractions which  the  Hindus  call  religion  is  too 
much  for  me.  I  didn't  know  it  was  so  late,"  I 
added,  and  looked  at  my  watch;  but  it  was  not 
yet  eleven  o'clock. 

"  I'm  earlier  than  usual,"  said  Godfrey.  "  I 
cut  loose  as  soon  as  I  could,  because  I  thought  we'd 
better  talk  things  over.  I  saw  Simmonds  in  town 
to-night." 

"  Ah,"  I  said;  "  and  what  did  he  tell  you?  " 

"  Nothing  I  didn't  know  already.  The  police 
have  discovered  nothing  new  —  or,  if  they  have, 
they're  keeping  it  dark  until  to-morrow.  Sim- 
monds did,  however,  regale  me  with  his  theory 
of  the  case.  He  says  the  murder  was  done  either 
by  one  of  the  Hindus  or  by  young  Swain." 

"  What  do  you  think?  "  I  asked. 

"  I'm  inclined  to  agree  with  Simmonds,"  said 
Godfrey,  grimly.  "  With  the  emphasis  on  the 
Hindus,"  he  added,  seeing  the  look  on  my  face. 
"  I  don't  believe  Swain  had  anv  hand  in  it." 


i32          THE    GLOVED   HAND 

"  Neither  do  I,"  I  agreed,  heartily.  "  In  fact, 
such  a  theory  is  too  absurd  to  discuss." 

"  Just  the  same,"  said  Godfrey,  slowly,  "  I'm 
glad  he  didn't  touch  Vaughan.  If  he  had  hap- 
pened to  seize  him  by  the  neck,  while  they  were 
struggling  together, —  in  other  words,  if  those 
finger-prints  Goldberger  found  had  happened  to 
be  Swain's  —  things  would  have  looked  bad  for 
him.  I'm  hoping  they'll  turn  out  to  belong  to 
one  of  the  Hindus  —  but,  as  I  said  to  Goldberger, 
I'm  afraid  that's  too  good  to  be  true." 

"  Which  one  of  the  Hindus?  "  I  asked. 

"  Oh,  the  Thug,  of  course." 

I  sat  bolt  upright. 

"  The  Thug?  "  I  echoed. 

"  Didn't  you  get  that  far?  "  and  Godfrey  picked 
up  one  of  the  books  and  ran  rapidly  through  the 
pages.  '  You  remember  we  found  him  squatting 
on  the  floor  with  a  rag  and  a  tooth  and  a  bone  in 
front  of  him?" 

"  Yes." 

II  And  do  you  remember  how  the  yogi  described 
them,  when  Goldberger  asked  him  about  them?  " 

'Very    distinctly  —  he    called    them    the    at- 
tributes of  Kali." 

"  Now  listen  to  this :  *  The  Thugs  are  a  religious 
fraternity,  committing  murders  in  honor  of  Kali, 
the  wife  of  Siva,  who,  they  believe,  assists  them 


THE    GLOVED    HAND  133 

and  protects  them.  Legend  asserts  that  she  pre- 
sented her  worshippers  with  three  things,  the  hem 
of  her  lower  garment  to  use  as  a  noose,  a  rib  to 
use  as  a  knife,  and  a  tooth  to  use  as  a  pick-axe 
in  burying  the  victims.'  '  He  glanced  at  me,  and 
then  went  on:  "'But  the  knife  was  little  used, 
for  the  religious  character  of  an  assassination  came 
to  depend  more  and  more  upon  its  bloodless  char- 
acter, and  for  this  a  noose  was  used,  with  which 
the  victim  was  strangled.  The  aversion  to  blood- 
shed became  in  time  so  great  that  many  sects  of 
Thuggee  consider  it  defiling  to  touch  human 
blood !  '  He  closed  the  book  and  threw  it  on 
the  table.  "  Don't  you  think  that  proves  the 
case?" 

"  Yes,"  I  said,  thoughtfully.  "  And  the  yogi 
• — is  he  also  a  Thug?" 

"Oh,  no;  a  White  Priest  of  Siva  could  never 
be  a  Thug.  The  worship  of  Siva  and  of  Kali 
are  the  very  opposites  of  each  other.  The  Saivas 
are  ascetics.  That  is,"  he  added,  in  another  tone, 
"  if  the  fellow  is  really  a  Saiva  and  not  just  a  plain 
fraud." 

"All  these  fellows  are  frauds,  more  or  less, 
aren't  they?  "  I  questioned. 

"  No,"  was  Godfrey's  unexpected  answer;  "the 
real  yogin  are  no  doubt  sincere;  but  a  real  yogi 
wouldn't  waste  his  time  on  a  soft-brained  old  man, 


i34          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

and  fire  sky-rockets  off  at  midnight  to  impress  him. 
My  own  opinion  is  that  this  fellow  is  a  fakir  — 
a  juggler,  a  sleight-of-hand  man  —  and,  of  course, 
a  crook." 

"Well?"  I  asked,  as  Godfrey  stopped  and 
failed  to  continue. 

"  Well,  that's  as  far  as  I've  got.  Oh,  yes  — 
there's  Toto.  A  cobra  is  one  of  a  fakir's  stock 
properties." 

"  But,  Godfrey,"  I  protested,  "  he  is  no  igno- 
rant roadside  juggler.  He's  a  cultivated  man — - 
an  unusual  man." 

"  Certainly  he  is  —  most  unusual.  But  that 
doesn't  disprove  my  guess ;  it  only  makes  the  prob- 
lem harder.  Even  a  roadside  juggler  doesn't  do 
his  tricks  for  nothing  —  what  reward  is  it  this 
fellow's  working  for?  It  must  be  a  big  one,  or 
it  wouldn't  tempt  him." 

"  I  suppose  Vaughan  paid  him  well,"  I  ven- 
tured. 

'Yes;  but  did  you  look  at  him,  Lester? 
You've  called  him  unusual,  but  that  word  doesn't 
begin  to  express  him.  He's  extraordinary.  No 
doubt  Vaughan  did  pay  him  well,  but  it  would  take 
something  more  than  that  to  persuade  such  a  man 
to  spend  six  months  in  a  place  like  that.  And  I 
think  I  can  guess  at  the  stake  he's  playing  for." 

"  .You  mean  Miss  Vaughan?  " 


THE    GLOVED   HAND  135 

"  Just  that,"  and  Godfrey  leaned  back  in  his 
chair. 

I  contemplated  this  theory  for  some  moments  in 
silence.  It  was,  at  least,  a  theory  and  an  inter- 
esting one  —  but  it  rested  on  air.  There  was  no 
sort  of  foundation  for  it  that  I  could  see,  and  at 
last  I  said  so. 

"I  know  it's  pretty  thin,"  Godfrey  admitted, 
"  but  it's  the  best  I've  been  able  to  do  —  there's 
so  little  to  build  a  theory  out  of.  But  I'm  going 
to  see  if  I  can't  prove  one  part  of  it  true  to-night." 

"Which  part?" 

"  About  his  being  a  fakir.  Here's  my  theory: 
that  hocus-pocus  on  the  roof  at  midnight  was  for 
the  purpose  of  impressing  Vaughan.  No  doubt 
he  believed  it  a  real  spiritual  manifestation, 
whereas  it  was  only  a  clever  bit  of  jugglery.  Now 
that  Vaughan  is  dead,  that  particular  bit  of 
jugglery  will  cease  until  there  is  some  new  victim 
to  impress.  In  fact,  it  has  ceased  already.  There 
was  no  star  last  night." 

"  But  you  know  why,"  I  pointed  out.  "  The 
yogi  spent  the  night  in  contemplation.  We  can 
bear  witness  to  that" 

'  We  can't  bear  witness  to  when  he  started  in," 
said  Godfrey,  drily.  "  We  didn't  see  him  till 
after  half-past  twelve.  However,  accepting  his 
explanation,  there  would  be  no  reason  for  omitting 


136          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

the  phenomenon  to-night,  if  it's  a  genuine  one." 

"  No,"  I  agreed. 

"  And  if  it  is  omitted,"  Godfrey  went  on,  "  it 
will  be  pretty  conclusive  evidence  that  it  isn't  genu- 
ine. Although,"  he  went  on  hurriedly,  "  I  don't 
need  any  proof  of  that  —  anything  else  would  be 
unbelievable."  He  glanced  at  his  watch.  "  It's 
ten  minutes  to  twelve,"  he  said.  "  Come  along." 

I  followed  him  out  of  the  house  and  through  the 
grove  with  very  mixed  sensations.  If  the  star 
didn't  fall,  it  would  tend  to  prove  that  it  was,  as 
Godfrey  had  said,  merely  a  fake  arranged  to  im- 
press a  credulous  old  man ;  but  suppose  it  did  fall ! 
That  was  a  part  of  the  test  concerning  which  God- 
frey had  said  nothing.  Suppose  it  did  fall  I 
What  then? 

So  it  was  in  silence  that  I  followed  Godfrey  up 
the  ladder  and  took  my  place  on  the  limb.  But 
Godfrey  seemed  to  have  no  uneasiness. 

"  We  won't  have  long  to  wait,"  he  said.  "  We'll 
wait  till  five  minutes  after  twelve,  just  to  make 
sure.  It  must  be  twelve  now.  I  wish  I  could  per- 
suade that  fellow  to  show  me  how  the  fake  was 
worked,  for  it  was  certainly  a  good  one  —  one  of 
the  best.  ..." 

He  stopped  abruptly,  staring  out  into  the  dark- 
ness. I  was  staring,  too,  for  there,  against  the 
sky,  a  light  began  to  glow  and  brighten.  It  hung 


THE    GLOVED   HAND  137 

for  a  moment  motionless,  and  then  began  slowly 
to  descend,  steadily,  deliberately,  as  of  set  pur- 
pose. Lower  and  lower  it  sank,  in  a  straight  line, 
hovered  for  an  instant,  and  burst  into  a  million 
sparks. 

In  the  flare  of  light,  a  white-robed  figure  stood, 
gazing  upwards,  its  arms  strained  toward  the  sky. 

As  we  went  silently  down  the  ladder,  a  moment 
later,  it  seemed  to  me  that  I  could  hear  Godfrey's 
theory  crashing  about  his  ears. 


CHAPTER    XIII 

FRANCISCO    SILVA 

IT  was  not  quite  ten  o'clock  when  Godfrey  and 
I  turned  in  at  the  gates  of  Elmhurst,  next  morning, 
and  made  our  way  up  the  drive  to  the  house,  but 
in  the  library  we  found  a  considerable  company  al- 
ready assembled.  Goldberger  was  there,  with 
Freylinghuisen  his  physician,  his  clerk,  his  stenog- 
rapher, and  the  men  who  were  to  constitute  the 
jury;  Simmonds  was  there,  and  with  him  was  an 
alert  little  man  in  glasses,  who,  Godfrey  told  me 
in  an  aside,  was  Sylvester,  the  head  of  the  Identifi- 
cation Bureau,  and  the  greatest  expert  on  finger- 
prints in  America.  The  district  attorney  had  sent 
up  an  assistant,  also  with  a  stenographer,  and  al- 
together the  room  was  decidedly  crowded. 

It  became  impossible  a  moment  later,  when  a 
string  of  automobiles  puffed  up  the  drive  and  dis- 
gorged a  mob  of  reporters  and  photographers.  As 
many  as  the  room  would  hold  pushed  into  it,  and 
the  others  stood  outside  in  the  drive  and  com- 
plained loudly.  The  complaints  of  the  photog- 
raphers were  especially  varied  and  forceful.  Gold- 
berger looked  around  him  in  despair,  mopping  his 

138 


THE    GLOVED   HAND  139 

face  angrily,  for  the  crowded  room  was  very  hot. 
'  You  fellows  will  have  to  get  out  of  here," 
he  said  to  the  reporters.  "  There's  no  room.  I'll 
give  you  a  transcript  of  the  proceedings  after 
they're  over." 

The  protests  redoubled.  How  were  they  to  get 
any  human  interest  out  of  a  transcript?  Besides, 
there  were  the  photographers.  What  did  he  ex- 
pect them  to  do  —  photograph  the  transcript? 
And  finally,  the  law  required  that  the  hearing  be 
public,  so  they  had  a  right  to  be  present.  It  was 
a  tense  moment,  the  more  so  since  Goldberger  was 
by  no  means  insensible  of  the  value  of  newspaper 
popularity  to  a  man  in  public  life. 

;'  Why  not  go  out  on  the  lawn?  "  Godfrey  sug- 
gested. "  It's  only  a  question  of  moving  some 
chairs  and  tables,  and  the  boys  will  all  lend  a 
hand." 

The  boys  applauded,  almost  forgiving  Godfrey 
his  scoop,  protested  their  entire  willingness  to  lend 
two  hands  if  necessary,  and,  when  Goldberger 
nodded  his  approval,  fell  to  work  with  a  will.  The 
lower  floor  of  the  house  was  denuded,  the  garden 
seats  pressed  into  service,  and  at  the  end  of  five 
minutes,  the  court  was  established  amid  the  circle 
of  trees,  the' reporters  had  their  coats  off  and  their 
pipes  lighted,  the  photographers  ditto  and  their 
cameras  placed.  Good  humour  was  restored ;  peace 


140          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

reigned;  and  Goldberger  smiled  again,  for  he 
knew  that  the  adjectives  with  which  the  reporters 
would  qualify  his  name  would  be  complimentary 
ones! 

He  took  his  place,  rapped  for  order,  and  in- 
structed his  clerk  to  swear  the  jury.  Nobody  paid 
much  attention  to  the  jury,  for  it  was  a  recognised 
device  for  paying  small  political  debts,  and  its  ver- 
dict was  usually  in  strict  accord  with  the  wishes 
of  the  presiding  officer.  Then  Goldberger  looked 
at  the  vacant  chair  which  I  had  kept  beside  me. 

"  By  the  way,  Mr.  Lester,"  he  said,  "  I  don't 
see  Mr.  Swain." 

"  He  had  to  go  back  to  the  city  last  night,"  I 
explained,  "  to  get  some  fresh  clothes.  He  had 
an  errand  or  two  to  do  this  morning,  and  may  have 
been  detained.  I  left  word  at  the  house  for  him 
to  come  over  here  at  once." 

'  You  seem  to  have  a  good  deal  of  confidence 
in  him,"  Goldberger  remarked. 

"  I  have,"  I  answered  quietly.    "  A  great  deal." 

Goldberger  frowned  a  little,  but  proceeded  to 
open  the  case  without  further  delay.  Godfrey 
was  the  first  witness,  and  told  his  story  much  as 
he  had  told  it  the  night  before.  I  followed  him, 
but  contributed  no  new  details.  Both  of  us  were 
excused  without  cross-examination. 

To  my  great  satisfaction,  Swain  arrived  while 


THE    GLOVED    HAND  141 

I  was  testifying,  and  I  could  not  deny  myself  a 
triumphant  glance  at  Goldberger,  but  he  was  study- 
ing some  memoranda  and  affected  not  to  notice 
it.  As  soon  as  I  left  the  stand,  Swain  came  and 
sat  down  beside  me  and  gave  me  a  letter.  It  was 
addressed  to  Miss  Vaughan. 

"  It's  from  Mrs.  Royce,"  he  said.  "  She's  a 
trump !  She's  determined  that  Marjorie  shall 
come  to  her.  She  says  if  you  don't  bring  her, 
she'll  come  after  her  herself.  Do  you  Know  how 
she  is  this  morning?  " 

"No,"  I  said;  "  I  haven't  seen  Hinman.  But 
how  are  you?  " 

"  Oh,  I'm  all  right  again  —  head  a  little  sore 
yet  where  I  bumped  it  —  but  otherwise  as  fit  as 
a  fiddle." 

"You  look  it!"  I  said;  and  I  was  glad,  be- 
cause I  wanted  him  to  make  a  good  impression 
on  the  stand.  I  knew  what  weight  appearances 
often  had;  and  no  jury,  I  told  myself,  would  be- 
lieve that  this  bright-eyed,  fresh-coloured  boy 
could  have  had  any  hand  in  a  brutal  murder. 

Just  then  Hinman's  name  was  called,  and  an 
officer  hurried  away  to  the  house  after  him.  They 
returned  together  almost  at  once,  and  Hinman  was 
placed  on  the  stand.  He  told  of  being  summoned 
by  Godfrey,  and  of  the  events  which  followed. 
He  said  that  the  murder  had  been  committed  about 


142          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

midnight,  that  death  had  been  due  to  strangula- 
tion; and  identified  the  cord  and  the  blood-stained 
handkerchief  which  the  coroner  submitted  to  him. 
I  fancied  that  Swain  lost  a  little  of  his  colour  when 
he  saw  the  handkerchief  and  learned  where  it  had 
been  found,  but  he  made  no  remark. 

"  Will  Miss  Vaughan  be  able  to  testify?  "  Gold- 
berger  inquired,  just  before  the  doctor  stepped 
down. 

"  Unless  it  is  absolutely  necessary,  I  think  she 
would  better  be  excused,"  Hinman  answered. 
"  She  is  still  very  nervous.  The  ordeal  might 
cause  a  serious  collapse." 

"  We  will  try  to  get  along  without  her,"  as- 
sented Goldberger.  "  If  necessary,  I  can  take  her 
deposition.  Is  she  in  bed?  " 

'Yes;  I  am  keeping  her  as  quiet  as  possi- 
ble." 

'  Very  well;  we  won't  disturb  her,"  said  Gold- 
berger, and  Hinman  was  excused,  and  Freyling- 
huisen  called.  He  merely  testified  to  the  cause 
of  death  and  that  the  autopsy  had  shown  that  the 
deceased  was  in  fair  health  and  without  organic 
disease. 

Then  the  servants  were  called,  but  their  evi- 
dence was  unimportant.  They  had  gone  to  bed 
about  ten  o'clock,  and  had  not  awakened  until  the 
coroner  himself  had  pounded  at  the  door.  They 


THE    GLOVED    HAND  143 

had  heard  no  unusual  sound.  Yes,  they  had  slept 
with  their  doors  locked  and  windows  shuttered  be- 
cause that  was  the  rule  of  the  house.  Yes,  even 
in  the  hottest  weather;  that  made  no  difference, 
since  each  of  their  rooms  was  fitted  with  a  ven- 
tilator. 

Questioned  as  to  the  manner  of  life  of  the  other 
inmates  of  the  house,  the  German  and  his  wife 
were  non-committal.  They  had  been  with  the  fam- 
ily a  long  time;  had  taken  care  of  the  place  when 
their  master  was  abroad;  only  after  his  return  had 
it  been  necessary  to  get  another  servant.  He  had 
been  at  home  for  a  year,  and  the  Hindus  had  ar- 
rived about  six  months  later.  Yes,  they  knew 
their  master  was  studying  some  strange  religion, 
but  that  was  no  affair  of  theirs,  and  they  had  never 
seen  anything  wrong.  He  had  always  treated 
them  well;  was  a  little  strange  and  absent-minded 
at  times;  but  neither  of  them  really  saw  much  of 
him.  He  never  interfered  in  the  household  af- 
fairs, Miss  Vaughan  giving  such  instructions  as 
were  necessary.  The  man  spent  most  of  his  time 
in  the  grounds,  and  the  woman  in  the  kitchen. 
She  was  a  little  petulant  over  the  fact  that  one 
of  the  Hindus  —  the  "  ugly  one  " —  refused  to  eat 
her  cooking,  but  insisted  on  preparing  his  own 
food.  Also,  the  housemaid  had  told  her  that 
there  was  a  snake,  but  she  had  never  seen  it. 


144          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

From  the  Irish  housemaid  a  little  more  informa- 
tion was  obtained.  Neither  Mr.  Vaughan  nor 
the  yogi  ate  any  breakfast;  indeed,  they  rarely 
left  their  rooms  before  noon.  The  other  Hindu 
mixed  himself  up  some  sort  of  mess  over  the  kit- 
chen stove.  Miss  Vaughan  breakfasted  alone  at 
nine  o'clock.  At  such  times,  she  was  accustomed 
to  talk  over  household  affairs  with  the  maid,  and 
after  breakfast  would  visit  the  kitchen  and  make 
a  tour  of  the  grounds  and  garden.  The  re- 
mainder of  her  day  would  be  spent  in  reading,  in 
playing  the  piano,  in  doing  little  household  tasks, 
or  in  walking  about  the  grounds  with  her  father. 
Yes,  sometimes  the  yogi  would  join  them,  and 
there  would  be  long  discussions.  After  dinner,  in 
the  library,  there  would  also  be  long  discussions, 
but  the  girl  had  no  idea  what  they  were  about. 
She  heard  a  fragment  of  them  occasionally,  but 
had  never  been  able  to  make  anything  of  them. 
In  fact,  from  the  way  they  dressed  and  all,  she 
had  come  to  the  conclusion  that  Mr.  Vaughan  and 
the  yogi  were  both  a  little  crazy,  but  quite  inof- 
fensive and  harmless. 

"And  how  about  Miss  Vaughan?"  asked  the 
coroner. 

"  Miss  Vaughan,  bless  her  heart,  wasn't  crazy," 
said  the  girl  quickly;  "  not  a  bit  of  it.  She  was 
just  sad  and  lonely, —  as  who  wouldn't  be !  She 


THE    GLOVED    HAND  145 

never  went  out  —  in  the  five  months  I've  been 
here,  she's  never  been  off  the  place;  and  them 
front  gates  was  never  opened  to  let  anybody  in. 
The  only  people  who  come  in  were  the  grocer  and 
milk-man  and  such-like,  through  the  little  door 
at  the  side." 

"You  say  you  have  been  here  five  months?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  How  did  you  come  to  apply  for  the  place?  " 

"  I  didn't  apply  for  it.  I  was  sent  here  by  an 
employment  bureau.  Miss  Marjorie  engaged  me. 
I  didn't  see  the  Hindus  till  afterwards,  or  I  don't 
think  I'd  have  took  it.  After  that,  I  stayed  for 
Miss  Marjorie's  sake." 

"  You  thought  she  needed  you?  " 

"  Yes,  I  did.  With  her  father  moonin'  round 
in  a  kind  of  trance,  and  the  yogi  lookin'  at  her 
with  eyes  like  live  coals,  and  a  snake  that  stood 
on  its  tail,  and  the  other  naygur  going  around 
with  nothin'  on  but  a  diaper,  I  thought  she  needed 
somebody  to  look  after  her;  and  says  I,  'Annie 
Crogan,  you're  the  girl  to  do  it!  ' 

There  was  a  ripple  of  laughter  and  the  pencils 
of  the  reporters  flew  across  their  paper.  It  was 
the  first  gleam  to  enliven  a  prosaic  and  tiresome 
hearing. 

"Were  the  Hindus  obtrusive  in  any  way?" 
asked  the  coroner. 


i46          THE    GLOVED   HAND 

"Oh,  no;  they  minded  their  business;  I've  no 
complaint  on  that  score." 

"  Did  you  see  any  of  their  religious  practices?  " 

"I  wouldn't  call  them  religious  —  quite  the 
contrary.  I've  seen  them  wavin'  their  arms  and 
bowin'  to  the  sun  and  settin'  in  the  dark  starin' 
at  a  glass  globe  with  a  light  in  it;  that's  about  all. 
I  got  used  to  it,  after  a  while,  and  just  went  on 
about  my  work  without  takin'  any  notice." 

There  was  little  more  to  be  got  from  her,  and 
finally  she  was  excused.  The  reporters  yawned. 
The  jury  twitched  nervously.  Worthington 
Vaughan  was  dead;  he  had  been  strangled  —  so 
much  was  clear;  but  not  a  scintilla  of  evidence  had 
as  yet  been  introduced  as  to  who  had  strangled 
him.  Then  a  movement  of  interest  ran  through 
the  crowd,  for  a  policeman  came  from  the  direc- 
tion of  the  house  accompanied  by  two  strange  fig- 
ures. One  was  the  yogi,  in  robes  of  dazzling 
white;  the  other  his  attendant,  wearing  something 
more  than  a  diaper,  indeed,  but  with  his  thin  brown 
legs  bare. 

The  yogi  bowed  to  Goldberger  with  grave  cour- 
tesy, and,  at  a  word  from  the  attendant  policeman, 
sat  down  in  the  witness-chair.  Everybody  was 
leaning  forward  looking  at  him,  and  the  cameras 
were  clicking  in  chorus,  but  he  seemed  scarcely 
aware  of  the  circle  of  eager  faces. 


THE    GLOVED   HAND  147 

"  Hold  up  your  right  hand1  please,"  began 
Goldberger,  after  contemplating  him  for  a  mo- 
ment. 

"  For  what  purpose?  "  asked  the  yogi. 

"  I'm  going  to  swear  you." 

"  I  do  not  understand." 

"  I'm  going  to  put  you  on  oath  to  tell  nothing 
but  the  truth,"  explained  the  coroner. 

"  An  oath  is  unnecessary,"  said  the  yogi  with 
a  smile.  "  To  speak  the  truth  is  required  by  my 
religion." 

There  was  something  impressive  in  the  words, 
and  Goldberger  slowly  lowered  his  arm. 

"  What  is  your  name?  "  he  asked. 

"  Francisco  Silva." 

"  You  are  not  a  Hindu?  " 

"  I  am  of  their  faith." 

"But  by  birth?" 

"  I  am  a  Portuguese." 

"Born  in  India?" 

"  Born  at  Goa." 

The  coroner  paused.  He  had  never  heard  of 
Goa.  Neither  had  I.  Neither,  I  judged,  had 
any  one  else  present.  In  this,  however,  I  was 
wrong.  Godfrey  had  heard  of  it,  and  afterwards 
referred  me  to  Marryat's  "  Phantom  Ship  "  as 
his  source  of  information. 

"  Goa,"  Silva  explained,  seeing  our  perplexity, 


i48          THE   GLOVED    HAND 

"  is  a  colony  owned  by  Portugal  on  the  Malabar 
coast,  some  distance  below  Bombay." 

"  How  does  it  come  that  you  speak  English  so 
well?" 

"  I  was  educated  at  Bombay,  and  afterwards 
at  Oxford  and  at  Paris." 

"  But  you  are  by  religion  a  Hindu?  " 

"  I  am  a  Saiva  —  a  follower  of  Siva,  the  Lord 
of  life  and  death." 

As  he  spoke,  he  touched  his  forehead  with  the 
fingers  of  his  left  hand.  There  was  a  moment's 
silence.  Goldberger's  moustache,  I  noted  with  a 
smile,  was  beginning  to  suffer  again. 

"  You  are  what  is  called  an  adept?  "  he  asked, 
at  last. 

"  Some  may  call  me  that,"  said  Silva,  "  but  in- 
correctly. Among  my  fellow  Saivas,  I  am  known 
as  a  White  Priest,  a  yogi,  a  teacher  of  the  law." 

"  Mr.  Vaughan  was  your  pupil?" 
'Yes;  for  six  months  he  was  my  pupil." 

"  In  what  way  did  you  come  to  accept  this  po- 
sition? " 

"  Two  years  ago,  Mr.  Vaughan  visited  the  mon- 
astery of  our  order  in  Crete.  He  was  at  that 
time  merely  a  student  of  Orientalism,  and  came 
to  us  from  curiosity.  But  his  interest  grew;  and 
after  a  year  spent  in  studying  the  holy  books,  he 
asked  that  a  teacher  be  sent  to  him.  There  was 


THE    GLOVED   HAND  149 

none  at  that  time  who  could  be  spared;  but  six 
months  ago,  having  completed  a  task  which  had 
occupied  me  in  Paris,  I  was  assigned  to  this." 

"  Do  you  always  go  to  so  much  trouble  to  se- 
cure converts?  "  questioned  Goldberger,  a  little 
cynically. 

"  Usually  we  require  that  the  period  of  study 
be  passed  at  one  of  our  monasteries.  But  this 
case  was  exceptional." 

"  In  what  way?  " 

"  It  was  our  hope,"  explained  the  yogi,  calmly, 
"  that  Mr.  Vaughan  would  assist  us  in  spread- 
ing the  Great  Truth  by  endowing  a  monastery  for 
us  in  this  country." 

"  Ah !  "  and  Goldberger  looked  at  him.  "  Did 
he  agree  to  do  so?  " 

"  He  did,"  answered  the  yogi,  still  more  calmly. 
''  This  estate  was  to  have  been  given  to  us  for 
that  purpose,  together  with  an  endowment  suf- 
ficient to  maintain  it.  Mr.  Vaughan  himself  hoped 
to  gain  the  White  Robe  and  become  a  teacher." 

14  What  was  to  become  of  his  daughter?" 

"  It  was  his  hope  that  she  would  become  a 
priestess  of  our  order." 

'  You  hoped  so,  too,  no  doubt?  "  inquired  Gold- 
berger sweetly. 

"  I  did.  It  is  an  office  of  high  honour  and  great 
influence.  She  would  walk  all  her  days  in  the 


ISO          THE    GLOVED   HAND 

shadow  of  the  Holy  One.  So  sweet  a  cup  is  of- 
fered to  few  women.  The  number  of  priestesses 
is  limited  to  nine." 

Goldberger  pulled  at  his  moustache  helplessly. 
Evidently  the  witness's  calm  self-control  was  not 
to  be  broken  down,  or  even  ruffled. 

u  Please  tell  me  where  you  were  night  before 
last,"  said  the  coroner,  finally. 

"  I  was  in  this  house." 

"  Did  you  see  Mr.  Vaughan?  " 

11 1  did  not." 

"  How  did  you  spend  the  night?  " 

"  In  contemplation.  It  was,  as  I  have  told  you, 
the  White  Night  of  Siva,  sacred  to  Kim  from  sun- 
set to  sunrise." 

"  Do  you  mean  that  you  spent  the  whole  night 
sitting  before  that  crystal?  "  asked  the  coroner,  in- 
credulously. 

"  That  is  my  meaning." 

"  You  know  nothing,  then,  of  the  death  of  Mr. 
Vaughan?  " 

"  I  saw  his  soul  pass  in  the  night.  More  than 
that  I  know  not." 

Again  Goldberger  twitched  at  his  moustache. 
He  was  plainly  at  a  loss  how  to  proceed. 

14  Was  your  attendant  with  you?  "  he  asked,  at 
last. 

"  He  was  in  his  closet." 


THE    GLOVED    HAND  151 

"  At  his  devotions  too,  perhaps?  " 

"  The  White  Night  of  Siva  is  also  the  Black 
Night  of  Kali,"  said  the  yogi,  gravely,  as  one  re- 
buking an  unworthy  levity. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  that?"  Goldberger 
demanded. 

"  Mahbub  is  of  the  cult  of  Kali,  who  is  the 
wife  of  Siva,"  said  the  yogi,  touching  his  forehead 
reverently  as  he  spoke  the  words.  "  He  spent  the 
night  in  adoration  of  her  attributes." 

Goldberger's  stenographer  was  having  his  dif- 
ficulties; the  pencils  of  the  reporters  were  racing 
wildly  in  unison;  everyone  was  listening  with 
strained  attention;  there  was,  somehow,  a  feeling 
in  the  air  that  something  was  about  to  happen.  I 
saw  Godfrey  write  a  line  upon  a  sheet  of  paper, 
fold  it,  and  toss  it  on  the  table  in  front  of  Gold- 
berger. The  coroner  opened  it,  read  the  line,  and 
stared  at  the  impassive  Mahbub,  who  stood  be- 
side his  master  with  folded  arms,  staring  over  the 
heads  of  the  crowd. 

"  In  other  words,"  said  Goldberger,  slowly, 
"  your  attendant  is  a  Thug." 

The  yogi  bowed. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  calmly;  "Mahbub  is  Thug- 
gee." 


CHAPTER   XIV 

THE   FINGER-PRINTS 

A  SHIVER  ran  through  the  crowd,  like  a  gust  of 
wind  across  a  field  of  wheat.  The  words,  "  Mah- 
bub  is  Thuggee,"  seemed  to  rend  the  veil  which 
obscured  the  tragedy.  Surely  it  was  clear  enough, 
now:  here  was  a  man  killed  by  Thuggee's  peculiar 
method,  and  here  was  the  Thug.  It  was  as  sim- 
ple as  two  and  two  ! 

Every  eye  was  on  the  bare-legged  HinHu,  im- 
passive as  ever,  staring  straight  before  him.  The 
camera-men  hastily  pushed  in  fresh  plates  and 
trained  their  machines  upon  him.  Two  policemen 
edged  close  to  his  side. 

But  Francisco  Silva  looked  about  him  with 
scornful  eyes,  and  presently  he  opened  his  lips  as 
though  to  speak,  and  then  he  closed  them. 

Goldberger  seemed  perplexed.  He  looked  as 
though,  while  rolling  smoothly  along  the  road 
toward  a  well-understood  goal,  he  had  suddenly 
struck  an  unforeseen  obstacle.  The  possibility  of 
Mahbub's  guilt  seemed  to  interfere  with  some  the- 
ory of  his  own.  He  called  Simmonds  and  the  dis- 
trict attorney  to  him,  and  they  exchanged  a  few 
low  words.  Then  he  turned  back  to  the  witness. 


THE    GLOVED    HAND  153 

"  I  should  like  to  question  your  attendant,"  he 
said.  "Will  you  translate  for  me?  I  have  not 
been  able  to  find  a  Hindu  interpreter." 

Silva  bowed  his  consent. 

"  Ask  him,  please,  where  he  spent  Thursday 
night." 

There  was  a  brief  interchange  between  Silva 
and  Mahbub,  then  the  former  turned  to  Gold- 
berger. 

"  It  was  as  I  thought,"  he  said.  "  He  spent 
the  night  in  the  worship  of  the  attributes  of  Kali." 

The  coroner  opened  an  envelope  which  lay  on 
the  table  at  his  elbow  and  took  out  a  piece  of 
knotted  cord. 

"  Ask  him  if  he  ever  saw  this  before,"  he  said, 
and  passed  it  to  the  witness. 

"  I  notice  that  it  is  stained,"  said  Silva,  looking 
at  it.  "  Is  it  with  blood?  " 

"  Yes." 

;'  Then  Mahbub  will  not  touch  it.  For  him  to 
do  so,  would  be  to  defile  himself." 

"  He  doesn't  need  to  touch  it.  Show  it  to 
him." 

Silva  spoke  to  his  servant,  holding  up  the  cord. 
The  latter  glanced  at  it  and  shook  his  head.  With- 
out a  word,  Silva  handed  the  cord  back  to  the 
coroner. 

"Are  there  any  further  questions?"  he  asked. 


i54  THE    GLOVED    HAND 

Goldberger  pulled  at  his  moustache  impatiently. 

"  There  are  a  lot  of  questions  I'd  like  to  ask," 
he  said,  "  but  I  feel  a  good  deal  as  though  I  were 
questioning  the  Sphinx.  Isn't  it  a  little  queer  that 
a  Thug  should  be  so  particular  about  a  few  blood- 
stains? " 

"  I  fear  that  you  are  doing  Mahbub  an  injus- 
tice in  your  thoughts,"  Silva  said,  gravely.  '  You 
have  heard  certain  tales  of  the  Thugs,  perhaps  — 
tales  distorted  and  magnified  and  untrue.  In  the 
old  days,  as  worshippers  of  Kali,  they  did,  some- 
times, offer  her  a  human  sacrifice;  but  that  was 
long  ago.  To  say  a  man  is  a  Thug  is  not  to  say 
he  is  also  a  murderer." 

"  It  will  take  more  than  that  to  convict  him, 
anyway,"  assented  Goldberger,  quickly.  "  That  is 
all  for  the  present,  professor."  I  bit  back  a  smile 
at  the  title  which  came  so  unconsciously  from 
Goldberger's  lips. 

Silva  bowed  and  walked  slowly  away  toward 
the  house,  Mahbub  following  close  behind.  At 
a  look  from  Simmonds,  two  of  his  men  strolled 
after  the  strange  couple. 

Goldberger  stared  musingly  after  them  for  a 
moment,  then  shook  his  head  impatiently,  and 
turned  back  to  the  business  in  hand. 

"Will  Mr.  Swain  please  take  the  stand?"  he 
said;  and  Swain  took  the  chair.  "Now,  Mr. 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          155 

Swain,"  Goldberger  began,  after  swearing  him, 
"  please  tell  us,  in  your  own  way,  of  what  part 
you  had  in  the  incidents  of  Thursday  night." 

Swain  told  his  story  much  as  he  had  told  it  to 
Godfrey  and  me,  and  I  noticed  how  closely  both 
Goldberger  and  the  district  attorney  followed  it. 
When  he  had  finished,  Goldberger  asked  the  same 
question  that  Godfrey  had  asked. 

;'  While  you  were  having  the  altercation  with 
Mr.  Vaughan,  did  you  grasp  hold  of  him?  " 

"  No,  sir;  I  did  not  touch  him." 
'You  are  quite  sure?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

'  You  didn't  touch  him  at  any  time,  then  or 
afterwards?  " 

"  No,  sir.     I  didn't  see  him  afterwards." 

"  What  were  your  feelings  when  he  took  his 
daughter  away?  " 

"  I  was  profoundly  grieved." 

"And  angry?" 

'  Yes,  I  suppose  I  was  angry.  He  was  most 
unjust  to  me." 

"  He  had  used  very  violent  language  to  you, 
had  he  not?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  He  had  threatened  your  life  if  you  tried  to 
see  his  daughter  again?" 

"  Yes." 


156          THE    GLOVED   HAND 

"  Now,  Mr.  Swain,  as  you  stood  there,  angry 
and  humiliated,  didn't  you  make  up  your  mind 
to  follow  him  to  the  house  and  have  it  out  with 
him?" 

Swain  smiled. 

"  I'm  lawyer  enough  to  know,"  he  said,  "  that 
a  question  like  that  isn't  permissible.  But  I'll  an- 
swer it.  I  may  have  had  such  an  impulse  —  I 
don't  know;  but  the  sight  of  the  cobra  there  in 
the  arbour  put  it  effectually  out  of  my  head." 

"  You  still  think  there  was  a  cobra?  " 

"  I  am  sure  of  it." 

"  And  you  ran  out  of  the  arbour  so  fast  you 
bumped  your  head?  " 

"  I  suppose  that's  what  happened.  It's  mighty 
sore,  anyway,"  and  Swain  put  his  hand  to  it  rue- 
fully. 

"  Mr.  Swain,"  went  on  the  coroner,  slowly, 
"  are  you  prepared  to  swear  that,  after  you  hurt 
your  head,  you  might  not,  in  a  confused  and  half- 
dazed  condition,  have  followed  your  previous  im- 
pulse to  go  to  the  house  and  see  Mr.  Vaughan?  " 
'  Yes,"  answered  Swain,  emphatically,  "  I  am. 
Although  I  was  somewhat  dazed,  I  have  a  dis- 
tinct recollection  of  going  straight  to  the  wall  and 
climbing  back  over  it." 

'  You  cut  your  wrist  as  you  were  crossing  the 
wall  the  first  time?" 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          157 

'  Yes,"  and  Swain  held  up  his  hand  and  showed 
the  strip  of  plaster  across  the  wound. 

"Your  right  wrist?  " 

11  Yes." 

"It  bled  freely,  did  it  not?" 

"  Very  freely." 

"  What  became  of  the  clothes  you  took  off  when 
you  changed  into  those  brought  by  Mr.  God- 
frey? " 

"  I  don't  know.  Mr.  Lester  told  me  they  were 
left  here.  I  intended  to  inquire  for  them." 

At  a  sign  from  Goldberger,  Simmonds  opened 
a  suit-case  and  placed  a  bundle  on  the  table.  Gold- 
berger unrolled  it  and  handed  it  to  Swain. 

"  Are  these  the  clothes?  "  he  asked. 

"  Yes,"  said  Swain,  after  a  moment's  examina- 
tion. 

"  Will  you  hold  the  shirt  up  so  the  jury  can 
see  it?" 

Swain  held  the  garment  up,  and  everybody's 
eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  blood-soaked  sleeve. 

'  There  seems  to  have  been  a  good  deal  of 
blood,"  remarked  Goldberger.  "  It  must  have 
run  down  over  your  hand." 

"  It  did.     It  was  all  over  my  fingers." 

"  So  that  it  would  probably  stain  anything  you 
touched?  " 

"  Yes,  very  probably." 


158          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

"  Did  you  think  of  that  when  you  were  in  the 
arbour  with  Miss  Vaughan?  " 

Swain's  face  suddenly  crimsoned  and  he  hung 
his  head. 

u  I'm  afraid  not,"  he  said. 

"  How  was  she  dressed?  " 

"  In  a  white  robe  of  some  silk-like  material." 

"  A  robe  that  would  show  a  blood-stain?  " 

"  Undoubtedly." 

Goldberger  paused  for  an  instant,  and  then  pro- 
duced a  pad,  such  as  one  uses  for  inking  rubber 
stamps,  opened  it  and  placed  it  on  the  table  before 
him. 

"  Have  you  any  objection  to  giving  me  a  set 
of  your  finger-prints?  "  he  asked. 

"  None  whatever,"  and  Swain  stepped  toward 
the  table  and  placed  the  tips  of  his  fingers  on  the 
pad.  Then  he  pressed  each  one  carefully  upon 
the  pad  of  paper  which  the  coroner  placed  before 
him.  Goldberger  watched  him  curiously,  until  all 
ten  impressions  had  been  made. 

"  You  did  that  as  though  you  had  done  it  be- 
fore," he  remarked. 

"  I  made  a  set  once  for  Mr.  Vaughan,"  said 
Swain,  sitting  down  again.  "  He  had  a  most  in- 
teresting collection." 

Goldberger  passed  the  prints  over  to  the  head 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          159 

of  the  Bureau  of  Identification,  then  he  turned 
back  to  the  witness. 

"  Mr.  Swain,"  he  said,  "  have  you  ever  seen 
this  cord  before?  "  and  he  handed  him  the  knotted 
cord. 

Swain  took  it  and  examined  it  curiously,  with- 
out hesitation  or  repugnance. 

"  No,"  he  answered,  finally,  "  I  never  saw  it 
before." 

"Do  you  know  what  it  is?"  and  Goldberger 
watched  him  closely. 

"  I  infer  that  it  is  the  cord  with  which  Mr. 
Vaughan  was  strangled." 

"  That  is  so.  .You  did  not  see  it  around  his 
neck?" 

"  I  have  no  recollection  of  having  done 
so." 

"  Please  look  at  the  cord  again,  Mr.  Swain," 
said  Goldberger,  still  watching  him.  "  You  will 
see  that  it  is  knotted.  Can  you  describe  those 
knots  for  me?  " 

Swain  looked  at  the  knots,  and  I  was  glad  to 
see  that  his  hands  were  absolutely  steady  and  his 
face  free  from  fear.  No  murderer  could  handle 
so  unconcernedly  the  instrument  of  his  crime ! 
Surely  the  jury  would  see  that! 

"  The  knots,"  said  Swain,  at  last,  "  seem  to  be 


160          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

an  ordinary  square  knot  with  which  the  cord  was 
made  into  a  noose,  and  then  a  double  bowline  to 
secure  it." 

"A  double  bowline?  Can  you  tie  such  a 
knot?" 

"  Certainly.  Anyone  who  has  ever  owned  a 
boat  can  do  so.  It  is  the  best  knot  for  this  pur- 
pose." 

The  coroner  reached  out  for  the  cord  and  re- 
placed it  in  the  envelope.  Then  he  produced  the 
handkerchief. 

"  Can  you  identify  this?  "  he  asked,  and  handed 
it  to  the  witness. 

Swain  changed  colour  a  little  as  he  took  it. 

"  I  cannot  identify  it,"  he  said,  in  a  low  voice; 
"but  I  will  say  this:  when  Miss  Vaughan  found 
that  my  wrist  was  bleeding,  she  insisted  upon  tying 
her  handkerchief  around  it.  This  may  be  the 
handkerchief." 

Again  a  little  shiver  ran  through  the  crowd, 
and  Goldberger's  eyes  were  gleaming. 

'  You  notice  that  two  corners  of  the  handker- 
chief are  free  from  stain,"  he  said,  "  and  are 
crumpled  as  though  they  had  been  tied  in  a  knot. 
The  handkerchief  Miss  Vaughan  used  would  prob- 
ably be  in  that  condition,  would  it  not?  " 

'  Yes,"  Swain  answered,  his  voice  still  low. 

"  You  heard  Dr.  Hinman  testify  that  he  found 


THE    GLOVED    HAND  161 

the  handkerchief  beside  the  chair  in  which  Mr. 
Vaughan  was  murdered?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Can  you  explain  its  presence  there?  " 

"  I  cannot,  unless  it  dropped  from  my  wrist 
when  I  stooped  to  raise  Miss  Vaughan." 

Goldberger  looked  at  the  witness  for  a  moment, 
then  he  glanced  at  Sylvester,  who  nodded  almost 
imperceptibly. 

"  That  is  all  for  the  present,  Mr.  Swain,"  the 
coroner  said,  and  Swain  sat  down  again  beside 
me,  very  pale,  but  holding  himself  well  in  hand. 

Then  Simmonds  took  the  stand.  His  story  de- 
^veloped  nothing  new,  but  he  told  of  the  finding 
of  the  body  and  of  its  appearance  and  manner  of 
death  in  a  way  which  brought  back  the  scene  to 
me  very  vividly.  I  suspected  that  he  made  his 
story  deliberately  impressive  in  order  to  efface  the 
good  impression  made  by  the  previous  witness. 

Finally,  the  coroner  dipped  once  more  into  the 
suit-case,  brought  out  another  bundle  and  unrolled 
it.  It  proved  to  be  a  white  robe  with  red  stains 
about  the  top.  He  handed  it  to  Simmonds. 

"  Can  you  identify  this?  "  he  asked. 

"Yes,"  said  Simmonds;  "it  is  the  garment 
worn  by  Mr.  Vaughan  at  the  time  of  his  mur- 
der." 

"  How  do  you  identify  it?  " 


162          THE    GLOVED   HAND 

"  By  my  initials  in  indelible  ink,  on  the  right 
sleeve,  where  I  placed  them." 

"  There  are  stains  on  the  collar  of  the  robe. 
What  are  they?" 

"  Blood-stains." 

"  Human  blood?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  How  do  you  know?  " 

"  I  have  had  them  tested." 

"  Did  any  blood  come  from  the  corpse?  " 

"  No,  sir;  the  skin  of  the  neck  was  not  broken." 

"  Where,  then,  in  your  opinion,  did  this  blood 
come  from?  " 

"  From  the  murderer,"  answered  SimmondSj 
quietly. 

There  was  a  sudden  gasp  from  the  reporters, 
as  they  saw  whither  this  testimony  was  tending. 
I  glanced  at  Swain.  He  was  a  little  paler,  but 
was  smiling  confidently. 

Goldberger,  his  face  hawklike,  stooped  again 
to  the  suitcase,  produced  a  third  bundle,  and,  un- 
rolling it,  disclosed  another  robe,  also  of  white 
silk.  This,  too,  he  handed  to  Simmonds. 

"  Can  you  identify  that?"  he  asked. 
'  Yes,"  said  Simmonds.     "  It  is  the  robe  worn 
by  Miss  Vaughan  on  the  night  of  the  tragedy. 
My  initials  are  on  the  left  sleeve." 

"  That  also  has  blood-marks  on  it,  I  believe?  " 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          163 

"  Yes,  sir; "  and,  indeed,  we  could  all  perceive 
the  marks. 

"Human  blood?" 

"  Yes,  sir.     I  had  it  tested,  too." 

"  That  is  all,"  said  Goldberger,  quickly,  and 
placed  on  the  stand  che  head  of  the  Identification 
Bureau. 

"  Mr.  Sylvester,"  he  began,  "  you  have  exam- 
ined the  marks  on  these  garments?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"What  did  you  make  of  them?" 

;<  They  are  all  unquestionably  finger-marks,  but 
most  of  them  are  mere  smudges.  However,  the 
fabric  of  which  these  robes  are  made  is  a  very 
hard  and  finely-meshed  silk,  with  an  unusually 
smooth  surface,  and  I  succeeded  in  discovering  a 
few  marks  on  which  the  lines  were  sufficiently  dis- 
tinct for  purposes  of  identification.  These  I  have 
photographed.  The  lines  are  much  plainer  in  the 
photographs  than  on  the  cloth." 

"  Have  you  the  photographs  with  you?  " 

"  I  have,"  and  Sylvester  produced  them  from 
a  pocket.  "  These  are  the  prints  on  the  robe  be- 
longing to  the  murdered  man,"  he  added,  passing 
four  cards  to  the  coroner.  '  You  will  notice  that 
two  of  them  show  the  right  thumb,  though  one  is 
not  very  distinct;  another  shows  the  right  fore- 
finger, and  the  fourth  the  right  middle-finger." 


164          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

"  You  consider  these  plain  enough  for  purposes 
of  identification?  " 

"  Undoubtedly.  Any  one  of  them  would  be 
enough." 

Goldberger  passed  the  photographs  to  the  fore- 
man of  the  jury,  who  looked  at  them  vacantly. 

"  And  the  other  photographs  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  got  only  two  prints  from  the  other  robe," 
said  Sylvester.  "  All  but  these  were  hopelessly 
smudged,  as  though  the  hand  had  moved  while 
touching  the  garment." 

"  You  mean  they  were  all  made  by  one  hand?  " 
asked  Goldberger. 

'  Yes,  sir;  by  the  right  hand.     Again  I  have 
a  print  of  the  thumb  and  one  of  the  third  finger." 

He  passed  the  photographs  over,  and  again 
Goldberger  handed  them  on  to  the  jury. 

"  Mr.  Sylvester,"  said  the  coroner,  "  you  con- 
sider the  finger-print  method  of  identification  a 
positive  one,  do  you  not?  " 

"Absolutely  so." 

"  Even  with  a  single  finger?  " 

"  Perhaps  with  a  single  finger  there  may  be 
some  doubt,  if  there  is  no  other  evidence.  Some- 
body has  computed  that  the  chance  of  two  prints 
being  exactly  the  same  is  one  in  sixty-four  mil- 
lions." 

"And  where  there  is  other  evidence?" 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          16$ 

11 1  should  say  that  a  single  finger  was  enough." 

11  Suppose  you  have  two  fingers?  " 

"  Then  it  is  absolutely  certain." 

"And  three  fingers?" 

Sylvester  shrugged  his  shoulders  to  indicate  that 
proof  could  go  no  further.  Goldberger  took  back 
the  photographs  from  the  foreman  of  the  jury  and 
ranged  them  before  him  on  the  table. 

"  Now,  Mr.  Sylvester,"  he  said,  "  did  you  no- 
tice any  correspondence  between  these  prints?  " 

'Yes,"  answered  the  witness,  in  a  low  voice; 
"  the  thumb-prints  on  both  robes  were  made  by 
the  same  hand." 

The  audience  sat  spell-bound,  staring,  scarce 
breathing.  I  dared  not  glance  at  Swain.  I  could 
not  take  my  eyes  from  that  pale-faced  man  on  the 
witness-stand,  who  knew  that  with  every  word  he 
was  riveting  an  awful  crime  to  a  living  fellow- 
being. 

"  One  question  more,"  said  Goldberger.  "  Have 
you  any  way  of  telling  by  whom  these  prints  were 
made?" 

'  Yes,"  said  Sylvester  again,  and  his  voice  was 
so  low  I  could  scarcely  hear  it.  "  They  were  made 
by  Frederic  Swain.  The  prints  he  made  just  now 
correspond  with  them  in  every  detail !  " 


CHAPTER   XV 

THE  CHAIN  TIGHTENS 

AN  instant's  silence  followed  Sylvester's  words, 
and  then  a  little  murmur  of  interest  and  excite- 
ment, as  the  reporters  bent  closer  above  their 
work.  I  heard  a  quick,  deep  intaking  of  the 
breath  from  the  man  who  sat  beside  me,  and  then 
I  was  on  my  feet. 

"  Your  Honour,"  I  said  to  Goldberger,  "  it 
seems  that  an  effort  is  to  be  made  to  incriminate 
Mr.  Swain  in  this  affair,  and  he  should  therefore 
be  represented  by  counsel.  I  myself  intend  to  rep- 
resent him,  and  I  ask  for  an  hour's  adjournment 
in  order  to  consult  with  my  client." 

Goldberger  glanced  at  his  watch. 

"  I  intended  to  adjourn  for  lunch,"  he  said,  "  as 
soon  as  I  had  finished  with  Mr.  Sylvester.  We 
will  adjourn  now,  if  you  wish  —  until  one-thirty," 
he  added. 

The  battery  of  cameras  was  clicking  at  Swain, 
and  two  or  three  artists  were  making  sketches  of 
his  head;  there  was  a  great  bustle  as  the  reporters 
gathered  up  their  papers  and  hurried  to  their  cars 
to  search  for  the  nearest  telephone;  the  jury 

166 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          167 

walked  heavily  away  in  charge  of  an  officer  to  get 
their  lunch  at  some  near-by  road-house;  Sylvester 
was  gathering  up  his  prints  and  photographs  and 
putting  them  carefully  in  his  pocket;  Simmonds 
was  replacing  the  blood-stained  clothing  in  the  suit- 
case, to  be  held  as  evidence  for  the  trial ;  but  Swain 
sat  there,  with  arms  folded,  staring  straight  be- 
fore him,  apparently  unconscious  of  all  this. 

Goldberger  looked  at  him  closely,  as  he  came 
down  to  speak  to  me,  but  Swain  did  not  glance 
up. 

"  I  can  parole  him  in  your  custody,  I  suppose, 
Mr.  Lester?  "  the  coroner  asked. 

"Yes;  certainly,"  I  assented. 

"  Sylvester's  evidence  makes  it  look  bad  for 
him." 

"  Will  you  introduce  me  to  Sylvester  ?  I  should 
like  to  go  over  the  prints  with  him." 

"  Certainly;  "  and,  a  moment  later,  with  the 
prints  spread  out  before  us,  Sylvester  was  showing 
me  their  points  of  similarity. 

Godfrey  came  forward  while  he  was  talking 
and  stood  looking  over  his  shoulder. 

I  had  heard  of  finger-print  identification,  of 
course,  many  times,  but  had  made  no  study  of  the 
subject,  and,  I  confess,  the  blurred  photographs 
which  Sylvester  offered  for  my  inspection  seemed 
to  me  mighty  poor  evidence  upon  which  to  accuse 


i68          THE    GLOVED   HAND 

a  man  of  murder.  The  photographs  showed  the 
prints  considerably  larger  than  life-size,  but  this 
enlargement  had  also  exaggerated  the  threads  of 
the  cloth,  so  that  the  prints  seemed  half-concealed 
by  a  heavy  mesh.  To  the  naked  eye,  the  lines 
were  almost  indistinguishable,  but  under  Sylvester's1 
powerful  glass  they  came  out  more  clearly. 

"  The  thumb,"  said  Sylvester,  following  the 
lines  first  to  the  right  and  then  to  the  left  with 
the  point  of  a  pencil,  "  is  what  we  call  a  double 
whorl.  It  consists  of  fourteen  lines,  or  ridges. 
With  the  micrometer,"  and  he  raised  the  lid  of 
a  little  leather  box  which  stood  on  the  table,  took 
out  an  instrument  of  polished  steel  and  applied  it 
to  one  of  the  photographs,  "  we  get  the  angle  of 
these  ridges.  See  how  I  adjust  it,"  and  I  watched 
him,  as,  with  a  delicate  thumbscrew,  he  made  the 
needle-like  points  of  the  finder  coincide  with  the 
outside  lines  of  the  whorl.  "  Now  here  is  a  photo- 
graph from  the  other  robe,  also  showing  the 
thumb,"  and  he  applied  the  machine  carefully  to 
it.  "  It  also  is  a  double  whorl  of  fourteen  lines, 
and  you  see  the  angles  are  the  same.  And  here 
is  the  print  of  the  right  thumb  which  your  client 
made  for  me."  He  applied  the  micrometer  and 
drew  back  that  I  might  see  for  myself. 

u  But  these  photographs  are  enlarged,"  I  ob- 
jected. 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          169 

'  That  makes  no  difference.  Enlargement  does 
not  alter  the  angles.  Here  are  the  other  prints." 

He  compared  them  one  by  one,  in  the  same  man- 
ner. When  he  had  finished,  there  was  no  escap- 
ing the  conviction  that  they  had  been  made  by  the 
same  hand  —  that  is,  unless  one  denied  the  theory 
of  finger-print  identification  altogether,  and  that, 
I  knew,  would  be  absurd.  As  he  finished  his 
demonstration,  Sylvester  glanced  over  my  shoulder 
with  a  little  deprecating  smile,  as  of  a  man  apol- 
ogising for  doing  an  unpleasant  duty,  and  I  turned 
to  find  Swain  standing  there,  his  face  lined  with 
perplexity. 

"You  heard?"  I  asked. 

'  Yes ;  and  I  believe  Mr.  Sylvester  is  right.  I 
can't  understand  it." 

'  Well,"  I  said,  "  suppose  we  go  and  have  some 
lunch,  and  then  we  can  talk  it  over,"  and  thank- 
ing Sylvester  for  his  courtesy,  I  led  Swain  away. 
Godfrey  fell  into  step  beside  us,  and  for  some  mo- 
ments we  walked  on  in  silence. 

"  There  is  only  one  explanation  that  I  can  see," 
said  Godfrey,  at  last.  "  Swain,  you  remember, 
got  to  the  library  about  a  minute  ahead  of  us,  and 
when  we  reached  the  door  he  was  lifting  Miss 
Vaughan  to  the  couch.  In  that  minute,  he  must 
have  touched  the  dead  man." 

Swain  shook  his  head  doubtfully. 


170          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

"  I  don't  see  why  I  should  have  done  that,"  he 
said. 

"  It  isn't  a  question  of  why  you  did  it,"  God- 
frey pointed  out.  "  It's  a  question  of  whether 
you  did  it.  Go  over  the  scene  in  your  mind,  re- 
calling as  many  details  as  you  can,  and  then  we'll 
go  over  it  together,  step  by  step,  after  lunch." 

It  was  a  silent  meal,  and  when  it  was  over,  God- 
frey led  the  way  into  his  study. 

"  Now,"  he  began,  when  we  were  seated, 
"  where  was  Miss  Vaughan  at  the  moment  you 
sprang  through  the  door?" 

"  She  was  lying  on  the  floor  by  the  table,  in 
front  of  her  father's  chair,"  Swain  replied. 

"You  are  sure  of  that?" 

"Yes;  I  didn't  see  her  until  I  ran  around  the 
table." 

"  I  was  hoping,"  said  Godfrey,  "  that  she  had 
fainted  with  her  arms  clasped  about  her  father's 
neck,  and  that,  in  freeing  them,  you  made  those 
marks  on  his  robe." 

But  Swain  shook  his  head. 

"No,"  he  said;  "I'm  positive  I  didn't  touch 
him." 

"  Then  how  did  the  marks  get  there?  " 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Swain  helplessly. 

"  Now,  see  here,  Swain,"  said  Godfrey,  a  little 
sternly,  "  there  is  only  one  way  in  which  those 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          171 

finger-prints  could  have  got  on  that  garment,  and 
that  is  from  your  fingers.  If  you  didn't  put  them 
there  consciously,  you  must  have  done  so  uncon- 
sciously. If  they  aren't  explained  in  some  way, 
the  jury  will  very  probably  hold  you  responsible 
for  the  crime." 

"  I  understand  that,"  Swain  answered  thickly; 
"  but  how  can  they  be  explained?  I  don't  see  why 
I  should  put  my  hands  on  Mr.  Vaughan's  throat, 
even  unconsciously.  And  then  there's  the  fact  that 
at  no  time  during  the  evening  was  I  really  uncon- 
scious —  I  was  only  confused  and  dazed." 

"  Goldberger's  theory  is  plain  enough,"  said 
Godfrey,  turning  to  me;  "  and  I  must  say  that  it's 
a  good  one.  He  realises  that  there  wasn't  provo- 
cation enough  to  cause  a  man  like  Swain  to  com- 
mit murder,  with  all  his  senses  about  him;  but  his 
presumption  is  that  the  crime  was  committed  while 
Swain  was  in  a  dazed  condition  and  not  wholly 
self-controlled.  Such  a  thing  is  possible." 

"  No,  it  isn't  1  "  cried  Swain,  his  face  livid.  "  It 
isn't  possible !  I'm  not  a  murderer.  I  remember 
everything  else  —  do  you  think  I  wouldn't  remem- 
ber a  thing  like  that !  " 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  think,"  Godfrey  admit- 
ted, a  straight  line  between  his  brows.  "  Besides, 
there's  the  handkerchief." 

"  I   don't  see   any  mystery  about  that,"    said 


THE    GLOVED    HAND 

Swain.  ;<  There's  only  one  way  that  could  have 
come  there.  It  dropped  from  my  wrist  when  I 
stooped  over  Miss  Vaughan." 

Godfrey  looked  at  me,  and  I  nodded.  Swain 
might  as  well  know  the  worst. 

"  That  would  be  an  explanation,  sure  enough," 
said  Godfrey,  slowly,  "  but  for  one  fact  —  you 
didn't  have  any  bandage  on  your  wrist  when  you 
came  back  over  the  wall.  Both  Lester  and  I  saw 
your  wrist  and  the  cut  on  it  distinctly.  There- 
fore, if  you  dropped  the  handkerchief  there,  it 
must  have  been  before  that." 

The  blood  had  run  from  Swain's  cheeks,  as 
though  drained  by  an  open  artery,  and  for  a  mo- 
ment he  sat  silent,  staring  at  the  speaker.  Then 
he  raised  his  trembling  right  hand  and  looked  at 
it,  as  though  it  might  bear  some  mark  to  tell  him 
whether  it  were  indeed  guilty. 

"  But  —  but  I  don't  understand !  "  he  cried 
thickly.  "  You  —  you  don't  mean  to  intimate  — 
you  don't  believe  —  but  I  wasn't  unconscious,  I 
tell  you !  I  wasn't  near  the  house  until  after  we 
heard  the  screams !  I'm  sure  of  it!  I'd  stake  my 
soul  on  it!  M 

"  Get  a  grip  of  yourself,  Swain,"  said  Godfrey, 
soothingly.  "  Don't  let  yourself  go  like  that.  No, 
I  don't  believe  you  killed  Worthington  Vaughan, 
consciously  or  unconsciously.  I  said  Goldberger's 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          173 

theory  was  a  good  one,  and  it  is;  but  I  don't  be- 
lieve it.  My  belief  is  that  the  murder  was  done 
by  the  Thug;  but  there's  nothing  to  support  it, 
except  the  fact  that  he  was  on  the  ground  and 
that  a  noose  was  used.  There's  not  a  bit  of  di- 
rect evidence  to  connect  him  with  the  crime,  and 
there's  a  lot  of  direct  evidence  to  connect  you  with 
it.  It's  up  to  us  to  explain  it  away.  Now,  think 
carefully  before  you  answer  my  questions:  Have 
you  any  recollection,  however  faint,  of  having  seen 
Mahbub  before  this  morning?  " 

Swain  sat  for  quite  a  minute  searching  his  con- 
sciousness. Then,  to  my  great  disappointment,  he 
shook  his  head. 

"  No,"  he  said;  "  I  am  sure  I  never  saw  him 
before." 

"Nor  Silva?" 

"  No,  nor  Silva  —  except,  of  course,  the  time, 
three  or  four  months  ago,  when  he  gave  me  Mr. 
Vaughan's  message." 

"  Have  you  a  distinct  recollection  that  the  li- 
brary was  empty  when  you  sprang  into  it?" 

"  Yes;  very  distinct.  I  remember  looking  about 
it,  and  then  running  past  the  table  and  discovering 
Miss  Vaughan." 

"  You  saw  her  father  also?  " 

"  Yes ;  but  I  merely  glanced  at  him.  I  realised 
that  he  was  dead." 


i74          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

"  And  you  also  have  a  distinct  recollection  that 
you  did  not  approach  him  or  touch  him?  " 

"  I  am  quite  certain  of  that,"  answered  Swain, 
positively. 

"  Then  I  give  it  up,"  said  Godfrey,  and  lay 
back  in  his  chair. 

There  was  a  queer  boiling  of  ideas  in  my  mind; 
ideas  difficult  to  clothe  with  words,  and  composed 
of  I  know  not  what  farrago  of  occultism,  mysti- 
cism, and  Oriental  magic;  but  at  last  I  managed 
to  simmer  them  down  to  a  timid  question: 

"  I  know  it  sounds  foolish,  but  wouldn't  it  be 
possible,  Godfrey,  to  explain  all  this  by  hypnosis, 
or  occult  influence,  or  something  of  that  sort?  " 

Godfrey  turned  and  looked  at  me. 

"  Silva  seems  to  have  impressed  you,"  he  said. 

"  He  has.  But  isn't  such  an  explanation  pos- 
sible?" 

"  I  don't  think  so.  I  don't  deny  that  the  Ori- 
entals have  gone  farther  along  certain  paths  of 
psychology  than  we  have,  but  as  to  their  posses- 
sing any  occult  power,  it  is,  in  my  opinion,  all  bosh. 
As  for  hypnosis,  the  best  authorities  agree  that  no 
man  can  be  hypnotised  to  do  a  thing  which,  in  his 
normal  condition,  would  be  profoundly  repugnant 
to  him.  Indeed,  few  men  can  be  hypnotised  against 
their  will.  To  be  hypnotised,  you  have  to  yield 
yourself.  Of  course,  the  more  you  yield  your- 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          175 

self,  the  weaker  you  grow,  but  that  doesn't  apply 
to  Swain.  I  shouldn't  advise  you  to  use  that  line 
of  argument  to  a  jury,"  he  added,  with  a  smile. 
"  You'd  better  just  leave  the  whole  thing  up  in  the 
air." 

"  Well,"  I  said,  "  I'll  make  the  best  fight  I  can. 
I  was  hoping  Swain  could  help  me;  since  he  can't, 
we'll  have  to  trust  to  luck." 

Godfrey  left  us  to  get  his  story  of  the  morning 
hearing  into  shape,  and  I  fell  into  a  gloomy  revery. 
I  could  see  no  way  out  of  the  maze ;  either  Swain 
had  touched  Vaughan's  body,  or  it  had  been 
touched  by  another  man  with  the  same  finger-mark- 
ings. I  sat  suddenly  upright,  for  if  there  was  such 
a  man,  he  must  be  one  of  two.  .  .  . 

"What  is  it?"  Swain  asked,  looking  at  me. 

"  A  long  shot,"  I  said.  "  An  exceedingly 
long  shot  —  a  three-hundred-million  to  one  shot. 
How  many  people  are  there  in  the  world,  Swain?  " 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't  know,"  and  he  stared  at  me 
in  bewilderment. 

"  I  think  it's  something  like  a  billion  and  a  half. 
If  that  is  true,  then  it's  possible  that  there  are  four 
people  in  the  world,  beside  yourself,  with  the 
thumb  and  two  fingers  of  the  right  hand  marked 
exactly  as  yours  are." 

"  We  must  have  a  reunion,  some  day,"  Swain 
remarked,  with  irony. 


176          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

But  I  refused  to  be  diverted. 

"  Allowing  for  imperceptible  differences,"  I 
went  on,  "  I  think  it  is  safe  to  assume  that  there 
are  ten  such  people." 

"  Well,"  said  Swain,  bitterly,  "  I  know  one 
thing  that  it  isn't  safe  to  assume,  and  that  is  that 
either  of  those  Hindus  is  one  of  those  ten.  I  sup- 
pose that  is  the  assumption  you  will  make  next?  " 

"  It's  an  assumption  I  intend  to  put  to  the  proof, 
anyway,"  I  answered,  somewhat  testily,  "  and  if  it 
fails,  I'm  afraid  you'll  have  to  go  to  jail  till  I 
can  dig  up  some  more  evidence." 

He  turned  toward  me  quickly,  his  face  working. 

"  See  here,  Mr.  Lester,"  he  said,  "  don't  mis- 
understand me.  I'm  awfully  grateful  for  all 
you're  doing  for  me;  but  I  don't  mind  going  to 
jail  —  not  on  my  own  account.  I'm  innocent,  and 
I'll  be  able  to  prove  it  in  time.  But  Marjorie 
mustn't  be  left  alone.  I'd  be  ready  to  face  any- 
thing if  I  knew  that  she  was  safe.  She  mustn't 
be  left  in  that  house  —  not  a  single  night.  Prom- 
ise me  that  you'll  take  her  with  you  as  soon  as  the 
inquest's  over!  " 

"  I'll  promise  that,  Swain,  gladly,"  I  said,  "  pro- 
vided, of  course,  the  doctor  consents." 

"  We  must  get  him,"  and  Swain  sprang  to  his 
feet.  "  We  must  explain  to  him  how  important  it 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          177 

"  Perhaps  I  can  get  him  on  the  'phone,"  I  said; 
but  the  person  who  answered  told  me  that  he  had 
already  started  for  the  inquest.  And,  a  moment 
later,  Mrs.  Hargis  tapped  at  the  door  of  the  study 
and  said  that  the  doctor  was  outside.  I  told  her 
to  show  him  in  at  once. 

;'  The  truth  is,"  said  Hinman,  shaking  hands 
with  both  of  us,  "  I  thought  I'd  drop  in  to  find 
out  if  there  was  anything  I  could  do.  No  reason- 
able person,"  he  went  on,  turning  to  Swain,  "  be- 
lieves you  killed  that  defenceless  old  man;  but 
those  finger-prints  certainly  do  puzzle  me." 

''They  puzzle  me,  too,"  said  Swain;  "but  I'll 
prove  my  innocence  —  though  it  will  take  time." 

"  It  looks  to  me,"  said  the  doctor,  slowly, 
"  that  about  the  only  way  you  can  prove  your  in- 
nocence is  to  catch  the  real  murderer." 

'*  That's  exactly  what  we're  going  to  try  to  do," 
I  assented. 

"And  meanwhile  Mr.  Swain  will  be  in  jail?  " 
asked  the  doctor. 

"  I'm  afraid  there's  no  help  for  it,"  I  admitted 
ruefully. 

"  I  was  just  telling  Mr.  Lester  that  I  didn't 
mind  that,"  said  Swain  earnestly,  "  that  I  could 
stand  anything,  if  I  was  only  sure  that  Miss 
Vaughan  was  safe.  She  isn't  safe  in  that  house. 
Mr.  Lester  has  arranged  to  place  her  with  the 


178          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

family  of  his  partner,  Mr.  Royce,  where  she  will 
be  properly  taken  care  of.  Is  there  any  reason 
why  she  can't  be  taken  there  to-day?  " 

The  doctor  considered  for  a  moment 

"  Ordinarily,"  he  said,  at  last,  "  I  would  ad- 
vise that  she  be  left  where  she  is  for  a  few  days; 
but,  under  the  circumstances,  perhaps  she  would 
better  be  moved.  You  can  get  an  easy-riding  car- 
riage —  or  a  car  will  do,  if  you  drive  carefully. 
The  nurses,  will,  of  course,  go  along.  The  only 
thing  is,  she  will  probably  wish  to  attend  her 
father's  funeral,  which  takes  place  to-morrow." 

Swain  bit  his  lips  nervously. 

"  I  have  a  horror  of  her  staying  in  that  house 
another  night,"  he  said;  "  but  I  hadn't  thought  of 
the  funeral.  There  is  one  nurse  on  duty  all  the 
time,  isn't  there,  doctor?  " 

"  Yes." 

"All  right,  then;  we'll  risk  one  night  more. 
But  you  promise  me  that  she  shall  be  taken  away 
immediately  after  the  funeral?" 

11  Yes,"  I  said,  "  I  promise/* 

"  And  I,"  said  the  doctor.  Then  he  looked  at 
his  watch.  "  It's  time  we  were  getting  back,"  he 
added. 

He  took  us  over  in  his  car,  and  we  found  the 
jury,  under  the  guidance  of  Simmonds,  just  coming 
out  of  the  house,  each  member  smoking  a  fat  black 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          179 

cigar  at  the  expense  of  the  State.  They  had  been 
viewing  the  body  and  the  scene  of  the  crime,  but  as 
they  filed  back  into  their  seats,  I  noted  that  they 
seemed  anything  but  depressed.  The  lunch  had 
evidently  been  a  good  one. 

Sylvester  was  recalled  to  finish  his  testimony. 
He  explained  the  system  of  curves  and  angles  by 
which  finger-prints  are  grouped  and  classified,  and 
the  various  points  of  resemblance  by  which  two 
prints  could  be  proved  to  have  been  made  by  the 
same  finger.  There  was,  first  of  all,  the  general 
convolution,  whether  a  flexure,  a  stria,  a  sinus,  a 
spiral,  a  circle,  or  a  whorl;  there  was,  secondly, 
the  number  of  ridges  in  the  convolution;  and  there 
was,  thirdly,  the  angles  which  these  ridges  made. 
If  two  prints  agreed  in  all  these  details,  their  iden- 
tity was  certain.  He  then  proceeded  to  show  that 
the  prints  made  that  morning  by  Swain  did  so 
agree  with  the  photographs  of  the  prints  on  the 
garments.  Finally  the  witness  was  turned  over  to 
me  for  cross-examination. 

"  Mr.  Sylvester,"  I  began,  "  are  you  willing  to 
assert  that  those  finger-prints  could  have  been  made 
by  no  man  in  the  world  except  Mr.  Swain?  " 

Sylvester  hesitated,  just  as  I  hoped  he  would 
do. 

"  No,"  Ke  answered,  at  last,  "  I  can't  assert 
that,  Mr.  Lester.  There  may  be  three  or  four 


i8o          THE    GLOVED   HAND 

other  men  in  the  world  with  finger-prints  like  these. 
But  the  probabilities  against  any  of  these  men  hav- 
ing made  these  prints  are  very  great.  Besides,  it 
is  a  thing  easily  proved  —  the  number  of  persons 
who  might  have  committed  the  crime  is  limited, 
and  it  is  an  easy  thing  to  secure  prints  of  their 
fingers." 

'  That  is  what  I   was  about  to  propose,"   I 

agreed.     "  I  should  like  the  finger-prints  taken  of 

every  one  who  was  in  the  house  Thursday  night." 

"  Do  I  understand  that  your  case  stands  or  falls 

upon  this  point?"  asked  the  coroner. 

*  Your  Honor,"  I  answered,  "  my  client  can- 
not explain  how  the  prints  of  his  fingers,  if  they 
are  his,  came  to  be  upon  that  robe.  The  one 
thing  he  is  certain  of  is  that  they  were  not  placed 
there  by  him.  Not  once,  during  the  entire  even- 
ing, was  my  client  near  enough  to  Mr.  Vaughan 
to  touch  him;  not  once  did  he  so  far  lose  conscious- 
ness as  to  be  unable  to  remember  what  occurred. 
We  have  racked  our  brains  for  an  explanation,  and 
the  only  possible  one  seems  to  be  that  the  prints 
of  the  real  murderer  resemble  those  of  my  client. 
And  when  I  say  the  real  murderer,"  I  added,  "  I 
do  not  necessarily  mean  one  of  the  persons  whom 
we  know  to  have  been  in  the  house.  Outside  of 
these  finger-prints,  there  has  been  absolutely  no 
evidence  introduced  here  to  prove  that  the  crime 


THE    GLOVED    RAND          181 

might  not  have  been  committed  by  some  person 
unknown  to  us." 

'  You  can  scarcely  expect  the  jury  to  believe, 
however,"  Goldberger  pointed  out,  "  that  this  sup- 
posititious person  had  finger-tips  like  your 
client's." 

"  No,"  I  agreed,  "  I  make  no  such  assertion;  my 
hope  is  that  we  shall  soon  have  the  prints  of  the 
real  murderer;  and  when  I  say  the  real  murderer," 
I  added,  looking  at  the  jury,  "  I  believe  every  one 
present  understands  who  I  mean." 

The  coroner  rapped  sharply;  but  I  had  said 
what  I  wished  to  say,  and  sat  down.  The  wit- 
nesses of  the  morning  were  ordered  to  be  brought 
out.  Sylvester  arranged  his  ink-pad  and  sheets 
of  paper. 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  remarked  the  coroner,  with 
a  smile,  "  that  you  and  Mr.  Godfrey  would  better 
register,  too.  You  were  within  striking  distance." 

"  That  is  right,"  I  agreed,  and  was  the  first 
to  register;  but  Sylvester,  after  a  glance  at  my 
prints,  shook  his  head. 

"  Your  thumb  is  a  left  sinus,"  he  said.  "  You're 
cleared,  Mr.  Lester." 

Godfrey  came  forward  and  registered,  too,  and 
after  him  the  three  servants.  In  each  case,  a 
shake  of  Sylvester's  head  told  the  result. 

Then  Simmonds  came   from   the  house,   with 


i8z          THE.  GLOVED    HAND 

Silva  and  Mahbub  after  him,  and  the  coroner  ex- 
plained to  Silva  what  was  wanted.  I  fancied  that 
the  yogi's  brow  contracted  a  little. 

14  The  registration  of  the  fingers,"  he  said,  "  of 
the  foot  or  of  the  palm,  is  with  us  a  religious  cere- 
mony, not  to  be  lightly  performed.  By  some,  it 
is  also  held  that  the  touch  of  ink,  unless  com- 
pounded by  a  priest  of  the  temple  according  to  a 
certain  formula,  is  defiling;  and,  above  all,  it  is 
impossible  for  a  believer  to  permit  such  relics  of 
himself  to  remain  in  the  hands  of  an  infidel." 

"  The  relics,  as  you  call  them,"  Goldberger  ex- 
plained, "  won't  need  to  remain  in  our  hands. 
My  expert  here  can  tell  in  a  minute  whether  your 
prints  resemble  those  of  his  photographs.  If  they 
do  not,  they  will  be  returned  to  you." 

"And  if  they  do?" 

Goldberger  laughed. 

"  Well,  you  can  have  them  back,  anyway.  In 
that  case,  I  guess  we  can  persuade  you,  later  on, 
to  make  another  set." 

The  yogi  flushed  angrily,  but  controlled  him- 
self. 

"  I  rely  upon  your  promise,  sir,"  he  said,  and 
laid  his  fingers  first  upon  the  pad  and  then  upon 
the  paper. 

He  stood  with  dosed  eyes  and  moving  lips,  his 
inked  fingers  held  carefully  away  from  him,  dur- 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          183 

ing  the  breathless  moment  that  Sylvester  bent 
above  the  prints.  Then  the  expert  looked  up  and 
shook  his  head. 

"  No  resemblance  at  all,"  he  said,  and  held  out 
the  sheet  of  paper  on  which  the  prints  were. 

Silva  accepted  it  silently,  and  rolled  it  into  a 
ball  in  the  palm  of  his  hand. 

"  Now  for  the  other  fellow,"  said  Gold- 
berger. 

Silva  glanced  at  his  follower  doubtfully. 

"  I  am  not  sure  that  I  can  make  him  under- 
stand," he  said,  and  for  some  moments  talked  en- 
ergetically to  Mahbub  in  a  language  which  I  sup- 
pose was  Hindu.  Mahbub  listened,  scowling 
fiercely,  speaking  a  brief  sentence  now  and  then. 
"  He  would  know,"  Silva  asked,  at  last,  turning 
to  the  coroner,  "  whether  blood  is  a  constituent  of 
that  ink." 

"  It  is  a  purely  chemical  compound,"  Sylvester 
explained.  '  There  is  no  blood  in  it,  nor  any  other 
animal  matter." 

This  was  repeated  to  Mahbub,  and,  after  some 
further  hesitation,  he  advanced  to  the  table. 

A  moment  later,  Sylvester  was  bending  above 
the  prints.  Then  he  looked  up,  his  face  red  with 
astonishment,  and  motioned  me  to  approach. 

"Look  at  that!"  he  said,  and  laid  the  prints 
before  me. 


184          THE   GLOVED   HAND 

My  heart  was  leaping  with  the  hope  that  the  in- 
credible had  happened;  that  here  lay  the  clue 
to  the  mystery.  But  the  first  glance  told  me  that 
such  was  not  the  case.  The  prints  resembled 
Swain's  not  at  all.  And  then,  when  I  looked  at 
them  again,  I  perceived  that  they  resembled  no 
other  prints  which  I  had  ever  seen. 

For  the  prints  of  all  ten  fingers  were  exactly 
alike,  and  consisted,  not  of  whorls  and  spirals,  but 
of  straight  lines  running  right  across  the  finger. 
Sylvester  was  staring  at  them  in  bewilderment. 

"  These,"  he  said,  when  he  could  find  his  voice, 
"  are  the  most  remarkable  prints  I  ever  saw." 

"  Do  they  resemble  those  on  the  robe?  "  asked 
the  coroner. 

"  Not  in  the  least." 

;'  Then  that  settles  that  point,"  said  Goldberger, 
with  what  seemed  to  me  a  sigh  of  relief. 

"  There  is  one  thing,  though,"  said  Sylvester, 
eyeing  Mahbub  curiously;  "  I  wish  I  knew  the 
secret  of  these  extraordinary  prints." 

"  I  can  tell  it  to  you,"  said  Silva,  with  a  little 
smile.  "  It  is  not  at  all  extraordinary.  The  sys- 
tem of  finger-print  identification  has  been  in  use 
among  the  Hindus  for  many  centuries,  and  was 
adopted  by  the  English  courts  in  India  nearly  a 
hundred  years  ago,  after  every  other  method  had 
failed.  The  caste  of  Thuggee,  which  was  at  war 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          185 

with  all  other  castes,  and  especially  at  war  with 
the  English,  evaded  it  by  stimulating  on  the  fingers 
of  their  male  children  the  formation  of  these 
artifical  ridges.  It  became  a  sacred  rite,  performed 
by  the  priests,  and  has  been  maintained  by  the 
more  devout  members  of  the  caste,  although  the 
need  for  it  has  ceased." 

Sylvester  looked  at  the  prints  again. 

"  I  should  like  to  keep  these,"  he  said.  "  They 
would  be  a  great  addition  to  my  collection." 

Silva  bowed. 

"  Mahbub  will  have  no  objection,"  he  said. 
"  To  him,  they  are  of  no  importance,  since  there 
are  many  hundreds  of  men  in  the  world  with 
finger-tips  identical  with  his.  That  is  all?" 

Goldberger  nodded,  and  the  two  strange  figures 
walked  slowly  away  toward  the  house. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

MISS  VAUGHAN'S  STORY 

SYLVESTER  was  still  bending  in  ecstasy  over  those 
strange  finger-prints  —  the  absorbed  ecstasy  of  the 
collector  who  has  come  unexpectedly  upon  a  speci- 
men wonderful  and  precious. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  looking  up,  at  last,  "  I've 
learned  something  new  to-day.  These  prints  shall 
have  the  place  of  honour.  They  might  not  be  a 
means  of  identification  among  the  Thugs,  but  I'll 
wager  there's  no  collection  in  America  has  a  set  like 
them !  They're  unique !  " 

"  But  not  in  the  least  like  the  photographs,"  put 
in  Goldberger,  drily. 

"  No,"  and  Sylvester  flushed  a  little  as  he  felt 
himself  jerked  from  his  hobby.  "  None  of  the 
prints  we  have  taken  this  afternoon  resemble  the 
photographs  in  any  way." 

"  But  those  made  by  Mr.  Swain  do  resemble 
them?" 

"  It  is  more  than  a  resemblance.  They  are 
identical  with  them." 

"  What  inference  do  you  draw  from  that?  " 

"  It  is  more  than  an  inference,"  Sylvester  re- 

186 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          187 

torted.  "  It  is  a  certainty.  I  am  willing  to  swear 
that  the  finger-prints  on  the  robe  worn  by  the  mur- 
dered man  were  made  by  Frederic  Swain." 

'  You  realise  the  serious  nature  of  this  asser- 
tion? "  asked  the  coroner,  slowly. 

"  I  realise  it  fully." 

"  And  that  realisation  does  not  cause  you  to 
modify  it  in  any  way?  " 

"  It  cannot  be  modified,"  said  Sylvester,  firmly, 
"  however  serious  it  may  be,  however  reluctant  I 
may  be  to  make  it  —  it  cannot  be  modified  because 
it  is  the  truth." 

There  was  a  moment's  silence,  then  Goldberger 
turned  to  me. 

"  Have  you  any  questions  to  ask  the  witness, 
Mr.  Lester?  " 

"  No,"  I  answered;  "  I  have  none." 

Sylvester  bent  again  above  his  prints,  while  the 
coroner  and  the  prosecutor  held  a  brief  consulta- 
tion. Then  Goldberger  turned  back  to  me, 

"  Have  you  anything  further,  Mr.  Lester?  "  he 
asked.  "  Our  evidence  is  all  in,  I  believe." 

I  was  driven  to  my  last  entrenchment. 

"  I  should  like  to  call  Miss  Vaughan,"  I  said, 
"  if  Dr.  Hinman  thinks  she  is  strong  enough." 

Swain's  chair  creaked  as  he  swung  toward  me. 

"  No,  no !  "  he  whispered,  angrily.  "  Don't  do 
that !  Spare  her  that !  " 


188          THE   GLOVED   HAND 

But  I  waved  him  away,  for  it  was  his  honour  and 
welfare  I  had  to  consider,  not  Miss  Vaughan's 
convenience,  and  turned  to  Dr.  Hinman,  who  was 
evidently  struggling  between  two  duties.  One 
was  his  duty  to  his  patient;  the  other  his  duty  to 
a  man  cruelly  threatened,  whom  his  patient's  testi- 
mony might  save. 

;'  Well,  what  do  you  say,  doctor?  "  asked  the 
coroner. 

"  Miss  Vaughan  is  no  doubt  able  to  testify," 
said  the  doctor,  slowly,  "  but  I  should  like  to  spare 
her  as  much  as  possible.  Couldn't  her  deposition 
be  taken  privately?  I  think  you  mentioned  some- 
thing of  the  sort." 

Goldberger  looked  at  me. 

"  I  shall  be  satisfied,"  I  said,  "  to  question  her 
in  the  presence  of  Mr.  Goldberger,  reserving  the 
right  to  put  her  on  the  stand,  should  I  deem  it 
necessary  to  do  so." 

"  Very  well,"  agreed  the  doctor.  "  I  will  pre- 
pare her,"  and  he  hurried  away  toward  the  house. 

Swain  was  gripping  my  arm  savagely. 

"  See  here,  Mr.  Lester,"  he  said  in  my  ear,  his 
voice  shaking  with  anger,  "  I'm  in  deadly  earnest 
about  this.  Take  Miss  Vaughan's  deposition  if 
you  wish,  but  under  no  circumstances  shall  she  be 
'hauled  before  this  crowd,  in  her  present  condition, 
and  compelled  to  testify." 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          189 

"Why  not?"  I  asked,  surprised  at  his  vehe- 
mence. 

"  Because,  in  the  first  place,  her  testimony  can't 
help  me;  and,  in  the  second  place,  I  won't  have 
her  tortured." 

"  She  wouldn't  be  tortured." 

"  Look  around  at  these  reporters  and  these 
photographers,  and  then  tell  me  she  wouldn't  be 
tortured !  " 

"  How  do  you  know  her  evidence  won't  help 
you?" 

"How  can  it?" 

"  It  will  confirm  your  story." 

"  Can  it  explain  away  the  finger-prints?  " 

At  the  words,  I  suddenly  realised  that  there 
was  one  person  within  striking  distance  of  the 
murdered  man  whose  prints  we  had  not  taken  — 
his  daughter.  Not  that  they  were  necessary  .  .  . 

Dr.  Hinman  appeared  at  the  edge  of  the  lawn 
and  beckoned.  As  I  arose  from  my  chair,  Swain 
gave  my  arm  a  last  savage  grip. 

"  Remember!  "  he  said. 

But  I  kept  my  lips  closed.  If  Miss  Vaughan 
really  loved  him,  and  could  help  him,  I  would  not 
need  to  urge  her  to  the  stand! 

Goldberger  joined  me  and  together  we  followed 
Hinman  into  the  house  and  up  the  stairs.  He 
opened  the  door  at  the  stair-head,  waited  for  us 


190          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

to  precede  him,  followed  us  into  the  room,  and 
closed  the  door  gently. 

Miss  Vaughan  was  half-sitting,  half-reclining  in 
a  large  chair.  The  blinds  were  drawn  and  the 
room  in  semi-darkness,  but  even  in  that  light  I 
could  see  how  changed  she  was  from  the  girl  of 
whom  I  had  caught  a  glimpse  two  days  before. 
Her  face  was  dead  white,  as  though  every  drop  of 
blood  had  been  drained  from  it;  her  eyes  were 
heavy  and  puffed,  as  from  much  weeping,  and  it 
seemed  to  me  that  there  still  lingered  in  their 
depths  a  shadow  of  horror  and  shrinking  fear. 

"  This  is  Mr.  Goldberger,"  said  the  doctor, 
"  and  this  is  Mr.  Lester." 

She  inclined  her  head  to  each  of  us,  as  we 
took  the  chairs  the  doctor  drew  up,  and  I  fancied 
that  her  cheeks  flushed  a  little  as  her  eyes  met 
mine. 

"  I  have  explained  to  Miss  Vaughan,"  the  doc- 
tor continued,  "  that  an  inquiry  is  in  progress,  as 
the  law  requires,  to  determine  the  manner  of  her 
father's  death,  and  that  her  story  of  what  hap- 
pened that  night  is  essential  to  it." 

"  It  will,  at  least,  be  a  great  help  to  us,"  said 
Goldberger  gently,  and  I  saw  how  deeply  the  girl's 
delicate  beauty  appealed  to  him.  It  was  a  beauty 
which  no  pallor  could  disguise,  and  Goldberger's 
temperament  was  an  impressionable  one. 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          191 

"  I  shall  be  glad  to  tell  you  all  I  know,"  said 
Miss  Vaughan,  "  but  I  fear  it  will  not  help  you 
much." 

"  Will  you  tell  us  something,  first,  of  your 
father's  mental  state?  "  I  suggested. 

"  For  many  years,"  she  began,  "  father  had 
been  a  student  of  mysticism,  and  until  quite  re- 
cently he  remained  merely  a  student.  I  mean  by 
that  that  he  approached  the  subject  with  a  detached 
mind  and  with  no  interest  in  it  except  a  scientific 
interest." 

"  I  understand,"  I  said.  "  And  that  has 
changed  recently?" 

"  It  has  changed  completely  in  the  last  few 
months.  He  became  a  disciple,  a  convert  anxious 
to  win  other  converts." 

"  A  convert  to  what?  " 

"  To  Hinduism  —  to  the  worship  of  Siva." 

"  That  is  the  cult  to  which  Francisco  Silva  be- 
longs?" 

"  Yes;  he  is  a  White  Priest  of  Siva." 

"  And  this  change  in  your  father  has  been  since 
the  coming  of  this  man?  " 

11  Yes." 

"Do  you  know  anything  of  him?" 

"  Only  that  he  is  a  very  wonderful  man." 

"  You  know  nothing  of  his  past?  " 

"  No." 


192          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

"  Did  your  father  wish  you  to  become  a  con- 
vert? " 

'  Yes,  he  desired  it  deeply." 

"  A  priestess  of  Siva,  I  believe  it  is  called?  " 

"  Yes." 

"And  the  yogi  also  desired  it?" 

"  He  believed  it  would  be  a  great  destiny.  But 
he  urged  it  only  for  my  father's  sake." 

"  So  you  determined  to  appeal  to  Mr.  Swain?  " 

The  colour  deepened  in  her  cheeks  again. 

"  I  decided  to  ask  his  advice,"  she  said. 

"  Please  tell  us  what  happened  that  evening." 

"  Mr.  Swain  met  me  at  the  arbour  in  the  cor- 
ner of  the  grounds,  as  I  had  asked  him  to,  and 
convinced  me  that  my  father's  mind  had  given 
way  under  his  long  study  of  the  occult.  We  de- 
cided that  he  should  be  placed  in  a  sanitarium 
where  he  could  have  proper  attention,  and  Mr. 
Swain  was  to  make  the  necessary  arrangements. 
All  I  would  have  to  do  would  be  to  sign  some 
papers.  We  were  just  saying  good-night,  when 
my  father  appeared  at  the  entrance  of  the  ar- 
bour." 

"  This  was  about  midnight,  was  it  not?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Why  did  you  choose  that  hour  for  the  meet- 
ing?" 

"  Because  at  that  hour  my  father  and  the  yogi 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          193 

were  always  engaged  in  invoking  an  astral  bene- 
diction." 

Even  I,  who  knew  the  significance  of  the  words, 
paused  a  little  at  them.  The  doctor  and  Gold- 
berger  were  hopelessly  at  sea.  After  all,  the 
words  were  a  very  good  description  of  the  weird 
ceremony. 

"  Well,"  I  said,  "  and  after  your  father  ap- 
peared, what  happened?  " 

"  He  was  very  excited  and  spoke  to  Mr.  Swain 
in  a  most  violent  manner,  tylr.  Swain  attempted 
to  take  me  away  from  him,  not  knowing,  at  first, 
who  it  was  had  seized  me;  but  I  pushed  him  back 
and  led  my  father  away  toward  the  house." 

"  Did  Mr.  Swain  touch  your  father?  " 

"  No;  I  was  between  them  all  the  time.  I  was 
determined  that  they  should  not  touch  each  other. 
I  was  afraid,  if  they  came  together,  that  some- 
thing terrible  would  happen." 

Goldberger  glanced  at  me. 

"  Something  terrible  to  your  father?  "  he  asked. 

"Oh,  no,"  she  answered,  quickly;  "  Mr.  Swain 
would  not  have  harmed  my  father,  but  father  did 
not  know  what  he  was  doing  and  might  have 
harmed  Mr.  Swain." 

It  was  my  turn  to  look  at  Goldberger. 

"  After  you  left  the  arbour,"  I  asked,  "  did  you 
see  Mr.  Swain  again?  " 


i94          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

"  No,  I  did  not  see  him  again." 

"  You  went  straight  to  the  house?  " 

"Yes;  father  was  still  very  violent.  He  had 
forbidden  me  to  see  Mr.  Swain  or  to  write  to  him. 
He  had  taken  a  violent  dislike  to  him." 

"  Do  you  know  why?  " 

'  Yes,"  and  she  flushed  a  little,  but  went  on 
bravely.  "  He  believed  that  Mr.  Swain  wished 
to  marry  me." 

"  As,  in  fact,  he  did,"  'I  commented. 

"  Yes;  or,  at  least,  he  did  before  his  financial 
troubles  came.  After  that,  he  wished  to  give  me 
up." 

"But  you  refused  to  be  given  up?" 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  and  looked  at  me  with  eyes 
beautifully  radiant.  "  I  refused  to  be  given  up." 

I  felt  that  I  was  rushing  in  where  angels  would 
hesitate  to  enter,  and  beat  a  hasty  retreat. 

:'  Was  your  father  always  opposed  to  your  mar- 
riage? "  I  asked. 

"  No;  he  has  wanted  me  to  wait  until  I  was  of 
age ;  but  he  never  absolutely  forbade  it  until  a  few 
months  ago.  It  was  at  the  time  he  first  tried  to 
persuade  me  to  become  a  convert  to  Hinduism." 

"  What  occurred  after  you  and  your  father 
reached  the  house?  " 

"  Father  was  very  angry,  and  demanded  that 
I  promise  never  to  see  Mr.  Swain  again.  When 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          195 

I  refused  to  promise,  he  sent  me  to  my  room,  for- 
bidding me  to  leave  it  without  his  permission.  I 
came  up  at  once,  more  than  ever  convinced  that 
father  needed  medical  attention.  I  was  very  nerv- 
ous and  over-wrought,  and  I  sat  down  by  the 
window  to  control  myself  before  going  to  bed. 
And  then,  suddenly,  I  remembered  something  the 
yogi  had  told  me  —  that  father  was  not  strong, 
and  that  a  fit  of  anger  might  be  very  serious.  I 
knew  the  servants  had  gone  to  bed,  and  that  he 
must  be  downstairs  alone,  since  I  had  heard  no  one 
come  up." 

"  You  had  heard  no  one  in  the  hall  at  all?  "  I 
asked. 

"  No,  I  had  heard  no  one.  But  I  remember,  as 
I  started  down  the  stairs,  a  curious  feeling  of  dread 
seized  me.  It  was  so  strong  that  I  stood  for 
some  moments  on  the  top  step  before  I  could 
muster  courage  to  go  down.  At  last,  I  did  go 
down  and  —  and  found  my  father!'' 

She  stopped,  her  hands  over  her  eyes,  as  though 
to  shut  away  the  remembrance  of  that  dreadful 
sight. 

"  Have  you  strength  to  tell  me  just  what  hap- 
pened, Miss  Vaughan?  "  I  asked  gently. 

She  controlled  herself  with  an  effort  and  took 
her  hands  from  her  face. 

"  Yes,"  she  said;  "  I  can  tell  you.     I  remember 


196          THE   GLOVED    HAND 

that  I  stood  for  a  moment  at  the  door,  looking 
about  the  room,  for  at  the  first  glance  I  thought 
there  was  no  one  there.  I  thought,  for  an  instant, 
that  father  had  gone  into  the  grounds,  for  the 
curtain  at  the  other  door  was  trembling  a  little,  as 
though  someone  had  just  passed." 

"  Ah !  "  I  said,  and  looked  at  Goldberger. 

"  It  might  have  been  merely  the  breeze,  might 
it  not?  "  he  asked. 

"  I  suppose  so.  The  next  instant  I  saw  my  father 
huddled  forward  in  his  chair.  I  was  sure  he  had 
had  a  seizure  of  some  sort;  I  ran  to  him,  and 
raised  his  head.  .  .  ." 

Again  she  stopped,  her  eyes  covered,  and  a 
slow  shudder  shook  her  from  head  to  foot.  I 
could  guess  what  a  shock  the  sight  of  that  hor- 
rible face  had  been ! 

"  I  do  not  remember  anything  more,"  she  added, 
in  a  whisper. 

For  a  moment,  we  all  sat  silent.  The  only  por- 
tion of  her  evidence  which  could  in  any  way  help 
Swain  was  her  discovery  of  the  swaying  curtain, 
and  even  that,  as  Goldberger  had  pointed  out, 
might  easily  mean  nothing. 

"  Miss  Vaughan,"  I  said,  at  last,  "  how  long 
a  time  elapsed  from  the  moment  you  left  your 
father  in  the  library  until  you  found  him  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know.     Perhaps  fifteen  minutes." 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          197 

"  Was  he  quite  dead  when  you  found  him?  " 

"  Yes,  I  —  I  think  so." 

"  Then,"  I  said  to  Goldberger,  "  the  murder 
must  have  been  committed  very  soon  after  Miss 
Vaughan  came  upstairs." 

'  Yes,"  agreed  Goldberger,  in  a  low  tone, 
"  and  by  somebody  who  came  in  from  the  grounds, 
since  she  met  no  one  in  the  hall  and  heard  no 
one." 

Miss  Vaughan  leaned  toward  him,  her  hands 
clasping  and  unclasping. 

"Do  you  know  who  it  was?"  she  gasped. 
"  Have  you  found  out  who  it  was?  " 

'  We  suspect  who  it  was,"  answered  Goldberger 
gravely. 

'  Tell  me,"  she  began. 

"  Wait  a  minute,  Miss  Vaughan,"  I  broke  in. 
'  Tell  me,  first  —  did  you  hear  anyone  following 
you  across  the  garden?  " 

'  Yes,"  she  answered  thoughtfully;  "  once  or 
twice  I  fancied  that  someone  was  following  us. 
It  seemed  to  me  I  heard  a  step,  but  when  I  looked 
back  I  saw  no  one." 

"  Did  that  fact  make  you  uneasy?  " 

"  No,"  she  said,  with  a  little  smile.  "  I  thought 
it  was  Mr.  Swain." 

I  saw  Goldberger's  sudden  movement.  I  my- 
self could  not  repress  a  little  shudder. 


i98          THE    GLOVED   HAND 

"  You  thought  that  would  be  the  natural  thing 
for  Mr.  Swain  to  do,  did  you  not?  "  the  coroner 
inquired. 

"Yes  —  I  thought  he  might  wish  to  see  me 
safe."  Then  she  stopped,  leaning  forward  in  her 
chair  and  staring  first  at  Goldberger  and  then  at 
me.  "What  is  it?"  she  whispered,  her  hands 
against  her  heart.  "  Oh,  what  is  it?  You  don't 
mean  —  you  can't  mean  —  oh,  tell  me  I  It  isn't 
Fred  you  suspect !  It  can't  be  Fred !  " 

It  was  Dr.  Hinman  who  laid  a  gentle  and  quiet- 
ing hand  upon  her  shoulder,  and  it  was  his  grave 
voice  which  answered  her. 

'  Yes,"  he  said,  "  there  are  some  things  which 
seem  to  implicate  Mr.  Swain;  but  both  Mr.  Lester 
and  I  are  certain  he  isn't  guilty.  We're  going  to 
prove  it !  " 

She  looked  up  at  him  with  a  grateful  smile. 

"  Thank  you  1  "  she  gasped.  "I  —  wait  a  mo- 
ment —  I  was  silly  to  give  way  so.  Of  course 
you  will  prove  it!  It's  absurd!  "  And  then  she 
stopped  and  looked  at  Goldberger.  "  Do  you  be- 
lieve it?  "  she  demanded. 

Goldberger  flushed  a  little  under  her  gaze. 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  believe,  Miss  Vaughan," 
he  said.  "  I'm  searching  for  the  truth." 

"  So  are  we  all,"  I  said.  "  I  am  counsel  for 
Mr.  Swain,  Miss  Vaughan,  and  I  have  come  to 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          199 

you,  hoping  that  your  story  would  help  to  clear 
him." 

"  Oh,  I  wish  it  might!  "  she  cried. 

'  You  know  Mr.  Swain  cut  his  wrist  as  he 
came  over  the  wall  that  night?  " 

"  Yes,  he  told  me.  He  didn't  know  it  was 
bleeding,  at  first;  then  he  felt  the  blood  on  his 
hand,  and  I  wrapped  his  wrist  in  my  handker- 
chief." 

"Was  it  this  handkerchief?"  asked  Gold- 
berger,  and  took:  from  his  pocket  the  blood-stained 
square  and  handed  it  to  her. 

She  took  it  with  a  little  shiver,  looked  at  it,  and 
passed  it  back  to  him. 

"Yes,"  she  said;  "that  is  it." 

Then  she  sat  upright,  her  clenched  hands  against 
her  breast,  staring  at  us  with  starting  eyes. 

"  I  remember  now!  "  she  gasped.  "  I  remem- 
ber now !  I  saw  it  —  a  blotch  of  red  —  lying  on 
the  floor  beside  my  father's  chair!  How  did  "it 
get  there,  Mr.  Lester?  Had  he  been  there? 
Did  he  follow  us?  "  She  stopped  again,  as  she  saw 
the  look  in  Goldberger's  eyes,  and  then  the  look  in 
mine.  With  a  long,  indrawn  breath  of  horror, 
she  cowered  back  into  the  chair,  shaking  from  head 
to  foot.  "  Oh,  what  have  I  done !  "  she  moaned. 
"What  have  I  done!" 

There  could  be  no  question  as  to  what  she  had 


200          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

done,  I  told  myself,  bitterly:  she  had  added  an- 
other link  to  the  chain  of  evidence  about  her  lover. 
I  could  see  the  same  thought  in  the  sardonic  gaze 
which  Goldberger  turned  upon  me;  but  before 
either  of  us  could  say  a  word,  the  doctor,  with  a 
peremptory  gesture,  had  driven  us  from  the  room. 


CHAPTER   XVII 

THE    VERDICT 

GOLDBERGER  paused  at  the  stair-head  and  looked 
at  me,  an  ironical  light  in  his  eyes.  I  knew  he 
suspected  that  Miss  Vaughan's  story  of  the  hand- 
kerchief was  no  great  surprise  to  me. 

"  Well,"  he  asked,  "  will  you  wish  to  put  her 
on  the  stand?  " 

I  shook  my  head  and  started  down  the  stairs, 
for  I  was  far  from  desiring  an  argument  just  then, 
but  he  stopped  me  with  a  hand  upon  the  sleeve. 

"  You  realise,  Mr.  Lester,"  he  said,  more  seri- 
ously, "  that  it  is  plainly  my  duty  to  cause  Swain's 
arrest?  " 

"  Yes,"  1  assented.  "  I  realise  that.  Under 
the  circumstances,  you  can  do  nothing  else." 

He  nodded,  and  we  went  downstairs  together. 
I  saw  Swain's  eager  eyes  upon  us  as  we  came  out 
upon  the  lawn,  and  his  lips  were  at  my  ear  the  in- 
stant I  had  taken  my  seat. 

"Well?  "he  whispered. 

"  She  cannot  help  you,"  I  said.  I  did  not  think 
it  necessary  to  say  how  deeply  she  would  hurt  him 
when  her  testimony  was  called  for  in  open  court, 
as,  of  course,  it  would  be. 

201 


202 

"And  you  won't  put  her  on  the  stand?'* 

"  No,"  I  answered,  and  he  sank  back  with  a 

sigh  of  relief.     Then  something  in  my  face  seemed 

to  catch  his  eye,   for  he  leaned  forward  again. 

'  You  don't  mean  that  she  believes  I  did  itl  "  he 

demanded  hoarsely. 

"  Oh,  no,"  I  hastened  to  assure  him;  "  she  says 
such  an  accusation  is  absurd;  she  was  greatly  over- 
come when  she  learned  that  you  were  even  sus- 
pected; she  said.  .  .  ." 

But  the  coroner  rapped  for  order. 

"  Have  you  any  other  evidence  to  introduce, 
Mr.  Lester?  "  he  asked. 

"  No,  Your  Honour,"  I  answered,  and  I  saw 
the  cloud  of  disappointment  which  fell  upon  the 
faces  of  reporters  and  photographers.  To  have 
been  able  to  feature  Miss  Vaughan  would  have 
meant  an  extra  column.  I  could  also  see,  from 
the  expression  on  the  faces  of  the  jury,  that  my 
failure  to  put  her  on  the  stand  made  an  unfavour- 
able impression.  There  was,  indeed,  only  one 
inference  to  draw  from  it. 

Goldberger  turned  aside  for  a  few  words  with 
the  prosecutor,  and  I  suspected  that  he  was  tell- 
ing him  of  Miss  Vaughan's  discovery  of  the  blood- 
stained handkerchief;  but  there  was  no  way  to 
get  the  story  before  the  jury  without  calling  her. 
They  seemed  to  agree,  at  last,  that  they  had  evi- 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          203 

dence  enough,  for  the  jury  was  instructed  to  pre- 
pare its  verdict.  Its  members  withdrew  a  little 
distance  under  the  trees,  and  gathered  into  a  group 
to  talk  it  over. 

I  watched  them  for  a  moment,  and  then  I 
turned  to  Swain. 

"  I  suppose  you  know,"  I  said,  "  that  they're 
certain  to  find  against  you?  Even  if  they  don't, 
the  district  attorney  will  cause  your  arrest  right 
away." 

He  nodded. 

"  I'm  not  worrying  about  that.  I'm  worrying 
about  Miss  Vaughan.  You  won't  forget  your 
promise?  " 

"  No." 

"  She'll  have  no  one  but  you,"  he  went  on 
rapidly.  "  Neither  will  1 1  You  mustn't  fail 
us!" 

" 1  shan't,"  I  promised.  "  But  you'd  better 
think  about  yourself  a  little,  Swain." 

"  Plenty  of  time  for  that  when  I'm  sure  that 
Marjorie's  safe.  The  minute  you  tell  me  she's 
at  the  Royces',  I'll  begin  to  think  about  myself. 
I'm  not  afraid.  I  didn't  kill  that  man.  No  jury 
would  convict  me." 

I  might  have  told  him  that  convictions  are 
founded  on  evidence,  and  that  the  evidence  in  this 
case  was  certainly  against  him,  but  I  thought  it 


204          THE    GLOVED   HAND 

better  to  hold  my  peace.  The  more  confident  lie 
was,  the  less  irksome  he  would  find  imprisonment. 
So  I  sat  silent  until  the  members  of  the  jury  filed 
back  into  their  places. 

"  Have  you  reached  a  verdict,  gentlemen? " 
the  coroner  asked,  after  his  clerk  had  polled  them. 

"  Yes,  Your  Honour,"  the  foreman  answered. 

"What  is  the  verdict?" 

The  foreman  held  out  a  folded  paper  to  the 
clerk,  who  took  it,  opened  it,  and  read: 

"  We,  the  jury  in  the  inquest  held  this  thir- 
teenth day  of  June,  1908,  into  the  death  of  one 
Worthington  Vaughan,  residing  in  the  Borough 
of  the  Bronx,  City  of  New  York,  do  find  that  the 
deceased  came  to  his  death  by  strangulation  at 
the  hands  of  one  Frederic  Swain." 

There  was  an  instant's  silence,  and  then  Gold- 
berger  turned  to  the  jury. 

"Is  this  your  verdict,  gentlemen?"  he  asked 
quietly;  and  each  juryman  replied  in  the  affirma- 
tive as  his  name  was  called.  "  I  thank  you  for 
your  services,"  Goldberger  added,  directed  his 
clerk  to  give  them  their  vouchers  on  the  city  treas- 
urer, and  dismissed  them. 

Simmonds  and  the  assistant  district  attorney 
came  toward  us,  and  I  arose  to  meet  them. 
Swain  got  up,  also,  and  when  I  glanced  at  him  I 
saw  that  he  was  smiling. 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          205 

"  I  don't  know  whether  you  have  met  Mr.  Blake, 
Mr.  Lester,"  said  Simmonds,  and  the  prosecutor 
and  I  shook  hands.  I  introduced  him  to  Swain,  but 
Swain  did  not  offer  his  hand. 

"  I  suppose  you've  come  to  take  me  along?  " 
he  said,  the  smile  still  on  his  lips. 

"  I'm  afraid  we'll  have  to." 

"  Would  bail  be  considered?  "  I  asked. 

"  I'm  afraid  not,"  and  Blake  shook  his  head. 
"  It  isn't  a  bailable  offence." 

I  knew,  of  course,  that  he  was  right  and  that 
it  was  of  no  use  to  argue  or  protest.  Swain 
turned  to  me  and  held  out  his  hand. 

"  Then  I'll  say  good-bye,  Mr.  Lester,"  he 
said.  "  I'll  hope  to  see  you  Monday." 

"  You  shall,"  I  promised. 

u  And  with  good  news,"  he  added. 

"  Yes  —  and  with  good  news." 

"  Can  we  give  you  a  lift?  "  Blake  asked. 

"  No,"  I  said,  "  thank  you;  but  I'm  staying  out 
here  for  the  present." 

I  watched  them  as  they  climbed  into  a  car  — 
Goldberger,  Blake,  Simmonds  and  Swain;  I  saw 
the  latter  take  one  last  look  at  the  house;  then 
he  waved  to  me,  as  the  car  turned  into  the  high- 
road —  at  least,  he  was  taking  it  bravely !  The 
coroner's  assistants  climbed  into  a  second  car,  and 
the  four  or  five  policemen  into  a  third.  Then  the 


206          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

reporters  and  photographers  piled  into  the  others, 
the  few  stragglers  who  had  straggled  in  straggled 
on  again,  and  in  five  minutes  the  place  was  de- 
serted. As  I  looked  around,  I  was  surprised  to 
see  that  even  Godfrey  had  departed.  There  was 
something  depressing  about  the  jumble  of  chairs* 
and  tables,  the  litter  of  paper  on  the  grass  — 
something  sordid,  as  of  a  banquet-hall  deserted  by 
the  diners. 

I  turned  away  and  started  for  the  gate;  and 
then,  suddenly,  I  wondered  who  was  in  charge  of 
the  house.  Who  would  give  orders  to  clear  away 
this  litter?  Who  would  arrange  for  the  funeral 
on  the  morrow?  How  could  Miss  Vaughan  do 
it,  ill  as  she  was?  With  quick  resolution,  I  turned 
back  toward  the  house.  As  I  did  so,  I  was  sur- 
prised to  see  a  man  appear  at  the  edge  of  the 
lawn  and  run  toward  me.  It  was  Hinman. 

"  I  was  afraid  I'd  missed  you,"  he  said. 
"  Miss  Vaughan  wishes  to  see  you.  She's  all 
alone  here  and  needs  some  help." 

"  I'd  thought  of  that,"  I  said.  "  I  was  just 
coming  to  offer  it.  Is  she  better?  " 

"  Yes,  much  better.  I  think  she  has  realised 
the  necessity  of  conquering  her  nerves.  Of  course, 
we  must  still  be  careful." 

I  nodded,  and  followed  him  into  the  house. 
Then  I  stopped  in  astonishment,  for  Miss  Vaughan 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          207 

was  sitting  in  a  chair  in  the  library.  She  rose  as 
I  entered,  came  a  step  toward  me  and  held  out  her 
hand. 

'  You  must  not  think  too  badly  of  me,  Mr. 
Lester,"  she  said.  "  I  won't  give  way  again,  I 
promise  you." 

'  You  have  had  a  great  deal  to  bear,"  I  pro- 
tested, taking  her  hand  in  mine.  "  I  think  you 
have  been  very  brave.  I  only  hope  that  I  can  be 
of  some  service  to  you." 

"  Thank  you.  I  am  sure  you  can.  Let  us  all 
sit  down,  for  we  must  have  quite  a  talk.  Dr.  Hin- 
man  tells  me  that  I  shall  need  a  lawyer." 

"  Undoubtedly,"  I  assented.  "  Your  father's 
estate  will  have  to  be  settled,  and  that  can  only 
be  done  in  the  courts.  Besides,  in  the  eyes  of  the 
law,  you  are  still  a  minor." 

"  Will  you  be  my  lawyer,  Mr.  Lester?  " 

"  It  will  be  a  great  privilege,"  I  answered. 

"  Then  we  will  consider  that  settled?  " 

"  Yes,"  I  agreed,  "  we  will  consider  that 
settled." 

"  But  it  is  not  business  I  wish  to  discuss  to-day," 
she  went  on,  quickly.  "  There  are  other  things 
more  urgent.  First,  I  wish  to  get  acquainted  with 
you.  Have  you  not  wondered,  Mr.  Lester,  why 
it  was  that  I  chose  you  to  deliver  my  letter?  " 

"  I  suppose   it  was  because  there  was  no  one 


208          THE    GLOVED   HAND 

else,"  I  answered,  looking  at  her  in  some  astonish- 
ment for  the  way  she  was  rattling  on.  The  colour 
was  coming  and  going  in  her  cheeks  and  her  eyes 
were  very  bright.  I  wondered  if  she  had  escaped 
brain  fever,  after  all. 

"  No,"  she  said,  smiling  audaciously,  "  it  was 
because  I  liked  your  face  —  I  knew  you  could  be 
trusted.  Of  course,  for  a  moment  I  was  startled 
at  seeing  you  looking  down  at  me  from  a  tree.  I 
wondered  afterwards  how  you  came  to  be  there." 

"  Just  idle  curiosity,"  I  managed  to  stammer, 
my  face  very  hot.  "  I  am  sorry  if  I  annoyed 
you." 

"  Oh,  but  it  was  most  fortunate,"  she  protested; 
"  and  a  great  coincidence,  too,  that  you  should  be 
Mr.  Swain's  employer,  and  able  to  get  hold  of  him 
at  once." 

"  It  didn't  do  much  good,"  I  said,  gloomily; 
"  and  it  has  ended  in  putting  Swain  in  jail." 

I  happened  to  glance  at  her  hands,  folded  in 
her  lap,  and  saw  that  they  were  fairly  biting  into 
each  other. 

"  In  jail !  "  she  whispered,  and  now  there  was 
no  colour  in  her  face. 

"  Forgive  me,  Miss  Vaughan,"  I  said,  hastily. 
"  That  was  brutal.  I  forgot  you  didn't  know." 

"Tell  me!"  she  panted.  "Tell  me!  I  can 
stand  it !  Oh,  you  foolish  man,  didn't  you  see  — 


THE    GLOVED   HAND          209 

I  was  trying  to  nerve  myself  —  I  was  trying  to 
find  out.     .     .     ." 

I  caught  the  hands  that  were  bruising  them- 
selves against  each  other  and  held  them  fast. 

"  Miss  Vaughan,"  I  said,  "  listen  to  me  and  be- 
lieve that  I  am  telling  you  the  whole  truth.  The 
coroner's  jury  returned  a  verdict  that  Swain  was 
guilty  of  your  father's  death.  As  the  result  of 
that  verdict,  he  has  been  taken  to  the  Tombs.  But 
the  last  words  he  said  to  me  before  the  officers 
took  him  away  were  that  he  was  innocent,  and  that 
he  had  no  fear." 

"  Surely,"  she  assented,  eagerly,  "  he  should 
have  no  fear.  But  to  think  of  him  in  prison  — 
it  tears  my  heart!  " 

"  Don't  think  of  it  that  way !  "  I  protested. 
"  He  is  bearing  it  bravely  —  when  I  saw  him  last, 
he  was  smiling." 

"  But  the  stain  —  the  disgrace." 
'  There  will  be  none;  he  shall  be  freed  without 
stain  —  I  will  see  to  that." 

"  But  I  cannot  understand,"  she  said,  "  how  the 
officers  of  the  law  could  blunder  so." 

"  All  of  the  evidence  against  him,"  I  said,  "  was 
purely  circumstantial,  except  in  one  particular. 
He  was  in  the  grounds  at  the  time  the  murder  was 
committed;  your  father  had  quarrelled  with  him, 
and  it  was  possible  that  he  had  followed  you  and 


210          THE    GLOVED   HAND 

your  father  to  the  house,  perhaps  not  knowing 
clearly  what  he  was  doing,  and  that  another  quar- 
rel had  occurred.  But  that  amounted  to  noth- 
ing. Young  men  like  Swain,  even  when  half-un- 
conscious, don't  murder  old  men  by  strangling 
them  with  a  piece  of  curtain-cord.  To  suppose 
that  Swain  did  so  would  be  absurd,  but  for  one 
thing  —  no,  for  two  things." 

"  What  are  they?  "  she  demanded. 

"  One  is  that  the  handkerchief  which  you  had 
tied  about  his  wrist  was  found  beside  your  father's 
chair  —  but  it  was  not  upon  that  the  jury  made 
its  finding." 

"What  was  it,  then?" 

"It  was  this:  Swain  swore  positively  that  at 
no  time  during  the  evening  had  he  touched  your 
father." 

'Yes,  yes;  and  that  was  true.  He  could  not 
have  touched  him." 

"  And  yet,"  I  went  on  slowly,  "  prints  of 
Swain's  blood-stained  fingers  were  found  on  your 
father's  robe." 

"  But,"  she  gasped,  pulling  her  hands  away 
from  me  and  wringing  them  together,  "  how  could 
that  be?  That  is  impossible!" 

"  I  should  think  so,  too,"  I  agreed,  "  if  I  had 
not  seen  the  prints  with  my  own  eyes." 

"  You  are  sure  they  were  his  —  you  are  sure?  " 


THE   GLOVED   HAND          211 

"  I  am  afraid  there  can  be  doubt  of  it,"  and 
I  told  her  how  Sylvester  had  proved  it. 

She  listened  motionless,  mute,  scarce-breathing, 
searching  my  face  with  distended  eyes.  Then,  sud- 
denly, her  face  changed,  she  rose  from  her  chair, 
flew  across  the  room,  opened  a  bookcase  and  pulled 
out  a  bulky  volume  bound  in  vellum.  She  turned 
the  pages  rapidly,  giving  each  of  them  only  a 
glance.  Suddenly  she  stopped,  and  stared  at  a 
page,  her  face  livid. 

"  What  is  it?  "  I  asked,  and  hastened  t6  her. 

"  It  is  the  book  of  finger-prints,"  she  gasped. 
"  A  great  many  —  oh,  a  great  many  —  my  father 
collected  and  studied  them  for  years.  He  be- 
lieved —  I  do  not  know  what  he  believed." 

She  paused,  struggling  for  breath. 

"Well,"  I  said;  "what  then?" 

"  Mr.  Swain's  was  among  them,"  she  went  on, 
in  the  merest  whisper.  '  They  were  here  — 
page  two  hundred  and  thirty  —  see,  there  is  an 
index  —  *  Swain,  F.,  page  two  hundred  and 
thirty.'  " 

She  pointed  at  the  entry  with  a  shaking  finger. 

44  Well,"  I  said  again,  striving  to  understand, 
"what  of  it?" 

41  Look !  "  she  whispered,  holding  the  book  to- 
ward me,  "  that  page  is  no  longer  there !  It  has 
been  torn  out!  " 


212          THE    GLOVED   HAND 

Then,  with  a  convulsive  shudder,  she  closed  the 
book,  thrust  it  back  into  its  place,  and  ran  noise- 
lessly to  the  door  leading  to  the  hall.  She  swept 
back  the  curtain  and  looked  out. 

"Oh,  is  it  you,  Annie?"  she  said,  and  I  saw 
the  Irish  maid  standing  just  outside.  "  I  was 
about  to  call  you.  Please  tell  Henry  to  bring 
those  tables  and  chairs  in  from  the  lawn." 

"  Yes,  ma'am,"  said  the  girl,  and  turned  away. 

Miss  Vaughan  stood  looking  after  her  for  a 
moment,  then  dropped  the  curtain  and  turned  back 
again  into  the  room.  I  saw  that  she  had  mastered 
her  emotion,  but  her  face  was  still  dead  white. 

As  for  me,  my  brain  was  whirling.  What  if 
Swain's  finger-prints  were  missing  from  the  book? 
What  connection  could  that  have  with  the  blood- 
stains on  the  robe?  What  was  the  meaning  of 
Miss  Vaughan's  emotion?  Who  was  it  she  had 
expected  to  find  listening  at  the  door?  I  could 
only  stare  at  her,  and  she  smiled  slightly  as  she 
saw  my  look. 

"But  what  is  it  you  suspect?"  I  stammered. 
"  I  don't  see.  .  .  ." 

"  Neither  do  I,"  she  broke  in.  "  But  I  am  try- 
ing to  see  —  I  am  trying  to  see !  "  and  she  wrung 
her  hands  together. 

"  The  disappearance  of  the  prints  seems  plain 
enough  to  me,"  said  Hinman,  coming  forward. 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          213 

"  Mr.  Vaughan  no  doubt  tore  them  out  himself, 
when  he  took  his  violent  dislike  to  Swain.  The 
act  would  be  characteristic  of  a  certain  form  of 
mania.  Nobody  else  would  have  any  motive  for 
destroying  them;  in  fact,  no  one  else  would  dare 
mutilate  a  book  he  prized  so  highly." 

Miss  Vaughan  seemed  to  breathe  more  freely, 
but  her  intent  inward  look  did  not  relax. 

"  At  least  that  is  an  explanation,"  I  agreed. 

"  It  is  the  true  explanation,"  said  Hinman,  con- 
fidently. "  Can  you  suggest  any  other,  Miss 
Vaughan?  " 

"  No,"  she  said,  slowly;  "  no,"  and  walked  once 
or  twice  up  and  down  the  room.  Then  she 
seemed  to  put  the  subject  away  from  her.  "At 
any  rate,  it  is  of  no  importance.  I  wish  to  speak 
to  you  about  my  father's  funeral,  Dr.  Hinman," 
she  went  on,  in  another  tone.  "  It  is  to  be  to- 
morrow? " 

'  Yes  —  at  eleven  o'clock.  I  have  made  such 
arrangements  as  I  could  without  consulting  you. 
But  there  are  some  things  you  will  have  to  tell 
me." 

"What  are  they?" 

"Do  you  desire  a  minister?" 

"  No.  He  would  not  have  wished  it.  If  there 
is  any  priest,  it  will  be  his  own." 

"You  mean  the  yogi?" 


214          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

"  Yes." 

"Are  there  any  relatives  to  inform?" 

"  No." 

"  Where  shall  the  body  be  buried?  " 

"  It  must  not  be  buried.  It  must  be  given  to 
the  flames.  That  was  his  wish." 

'  Very  well.  I  will  arrange  for  cremation. 
Will  you  wish  to  accompany  it?  " 

"  No,  no !  "  she  cried,  with  a  gesture  of  repug- 
nance. 

"  That  is  all,  then,  I  believe,"  said  Hinman 
slowly.  "  And  now  I  must  be  going.  I  beg  you 
not  to  overtax  yourself." 

"  I  shall  not,"  she  promised,  and  he  bowed  and 
left  us. 

The  afternoon  was  fading  into  evening,  and 
the  shadows  were  deepening  in  the  room.  I 
glanced  about  me  with  a  little  feeling  of  appre- 
hension. 

"  The  nurses  are  still  here,  are  they  not?  "  I 
asked. 

"  Yes;  but  I  shall  dismiss  them  to-morrow." 

I  hesitated  a  moment.  I  did  not  wish  to  alarm 
her,  and  yet.  .  .  . 

"  After  they  are  gone,  it  will  be  rather  lone- 
some for  you  here,"  I  ventured. 

"  I  am  used  to  being  lonesome." 

"  My  partner's  wife,   Mrs.   Royce,   would  be 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          215 

very  glad  if  you  would  come  to  her,"  I  said.  "  I 
have  a  letter  from  her,"  and  I  gave  it  to  her. 

She  stood  considering  it  with  a  little  pucker  of 
perplexity  between  her  brows.  She  did  not  at- 
tempt to  open  it. 

"  She  is  very  kind,"  she  murmured,  and  her 
tone  surprised  and  disappointed  me. 

"  May  I  see  you  to-morrow?" 

"  If  you  wish." 

"  I  shall  come  some  time  during  the  afternoon," 
I  said,  and  took  up  my  hat.  "  There  is  nothing 
else  I  can  do  for  you?  " 

"  No,  I  believe  not." 

She  was  plainly  preoccupied  and  answered  al- 
most at  random,  with  a  coldness  in  sharp  contrast 
to  the  warmth  of  her  previous  manner. 

"  Then  I  will  say  good-bye." 

"Good-bye,   Mr.  Lester;   and  thank  you." 

She  went  with  me  to  the  door,  and  stood  for  a 
moment  looking  after  me ;  then  she  turned  back  into 
the  house.  And  I  went  on  down  the  avenue  with 
a  chill  at  my  heart. 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

BUILDING     A     THEORY 

I  WAS  surprised,  when  I  came  down  for  dinner 
an  hour  later,  to  find  Godfrey  awaiting  me. 

"  I  always  try  to  make  it,  Saturday  night,"  he 
explained.  "  The  chief  throws  the  work  on  the 
other  fellows,  if  he  can.  That's  the  reason  I 
hustled  away  after  the  inquest.  The  story's  all 
in,  and  now  we'll  have  a  good  dinner  —  if  I  do 
say  it  myself  —  and  then  a  good  talk.  I  feel  the 
need  of  a  talk,  Lester." 

"So  do  I,"  I  said;  "though  I'm  afraid  talk- 
ing won't  help  us  much." 

"  The  funny  thing  about  this  case  is,"  mused 
Godfrey,  "  that  the  farther  we  get  into  it  the 
thicker  it  grows." 

"  Yes,"  I  agreed,  "  and  the  more  one  thinks 
about  it,  the  less  one  understands." 

"  Well,  suppose  we  get  away  from  it  for  a 
while,"  said  Godfrey,  and  turned  the  talk  to  other 
things.  No  man  could  talk  more  delightfully  of 
music,  of  art,  of  letters.  How  he  managed  it  I 
could  never  guess,  but  he  seemed  to  have  read 
everything,  to  have  seen  everything,  to  have  heard 

216 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          217 

everything.  Marryat,  for  instance;  who  reads 
Marryat  nowadays?  And  yet  he  had  read  the 
"  Phantom  Ship,"  and  so  knew  something  of  Goa. 
An  hour  passed  very  quickly,  but  at  last  he  rose 
and  led  the  way  into  his  study. 

"  A  friend  of  mine  dropped  in  to  see  me  to-day 


who  comes  up  to  New  York  occasionally,  and  whom 
I  happened  to  help  out  of  a  rather  serious  difficulty 
a  few  years  ago.  Perhaps  some  day  I'll  tell  you 
about  it.  He  always  brings  me  a  bundle  of  his 
own  special  cigars.  I  didn't  see  him  to-day,  but 
he  left  the  cigars,  and  I  want  you  to  try  one. 
Perhaps  it  will  give  you  an  inspiration." 

He  went  to  his  desk,  opened  a  tin-foiled  package 
that  lay  there,  and  carefully  extracted  two  long 
cigars  of  a  rich  and  glowing  brown. 

"  Perhaps  you've  heard  of  the  special  cigars  that 
are  made  for  Pierpont  Morgan,"  he  went  on,  as 
he  handed  one  to  me,  after  carefully  replacing  the 
wrappings  of  the  bundle.  "  Well,  I  smoked  one 
of  Morgan's  cigars  once  —  it  was  good,  mighty 
good;  but  it  wasn't  in  the  same  class  with  these. 
Light  up." 

I  did.  Never  before  had  I  drawn  between  my 
lips  a  breath  so  satisfying  * —  so  rich,  so  smooth,  so 
full  of  flavour.  I  exhaled  the  fragrant  smoke 
slowly. 


218          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

"  Godfrey,"  I  said,  "  I  never  knew  what  tobaccc 
was  before.  Are  these  cigars  purchasable?  I'm 
only  a  poor  lawyer,  but  even  one  a  month  would 
be  a  thing  to  look  forward  to  and  dream  about." 

But  Godfrey  shook  his  head. 
."  I've  felt  like  that,"  he  said;  "  but  they're  not 
to  be  had  for  money.     And  now  about  Swain." 

"  Let's  postpone  it  a  little  longer,"  I  begged. 
"  I  don't  want  my  mind  distracted." 

Godfrey  laughed,  but  fell  silent;  and  for  the 
next  half  hour,  no  sound  was  heard. 

"  Now,"  I  said,  at  last,  "  I'm  ready  to  listen,  so 
fire  ahead  whenever  you  want  to." 

"  I  haven't  much  to  tell,"  he  began;  "  nothing 
new  about  the  case.  But  I  stopped  at  the  Tombs, 
before  I  started  back,  to  make  sure  that  Swain 
had  everything  he  wanted.  They'd  given  him  an 
upper  cell,  and  sent  over  to  the  Marathon  and 
got  him  his  things,  and  I  arranged  to  have  his  meals 
sent  in  to  him  from  Moquin's." 

"  I  ought  to  have  thought  of  that,"  I  said,  con- 
tritely. "  I'm  much  obliged  to  you,  Godfrey. 
Did  you  see  him?  " 

"  Only  for  a  minute.  He  seemed  fairly  cheer- 
ful. He'd  had  them  bring  some  of  his  law  books 
to  him,  and  remarked  that  he'd  have  plenty  of  time 
to  study.  I  like  the  way  he's  taking  it.  He  gave 
me  a  message  for  you." 


THE   GLOVED   HAND    ,      219 

"What  was  it?" 

"  That  you  are  not  to  forget  your  promise." 

I  smoked  on  for  a  few  moments  in  silence. 

"  I  promised  him  I'd  get  Miss  Vaughan  away 
from  that  house,"  I  said  at  last.  "  I  had  Mrs. 
Royce  write  her  a  note,  inviting  her  to  stay  with 
her.  I  gave  it  to  her  this  afternoon." 

"What  did  she  say?" 

"  She  didn't  say  anything,  but  I  could  see  the 
idea  didn't  impress  her.  And  I  had  thought  all 
along  that  she  would  jump  at  it." 

Godfrey  gave  a  little  grunt,  whether  of  sur- 
prise or  satisfaction  I  could  not  tell. 

"  Why  didn't  you  put  her  on  the  stand  to- 
day, Lester?"  he  asked.  "Afraid  of  upsetting 
her?" 

"  I  wouldn't  have  stopped  for  that,  if  her  evi- 
dence would  have  helped  Swain.  But  it  would 
only  have  put  him  deeper  in  the  hole." 

"  In  what  way?  " 

"  Well,  in  the  first  place,  she  says  that  as  she 
and  her  father  returned  to  the  house,  she  heard 
footsteps  behind  them  and  thought  it  was  Swain 
following  them,  because  that  would  be  a  natural 
thing  for  him  to  do;  and,  in  the  second  place,  she 
saw  that  blood-stained  handkerchief  on  the  floor 
beside  her  father's  chair  when  she  came  into  the 
room  and  found  him  dead." 


220          THE   GLOVED   HAND 

"  So,"  said  Godfrey  slowly,  "  it  couldn't  have 
been  dropped  there  by  Swain  when  he  stooped  to 
pick  her  up." 

"No;  besides,  we  know  perfectly  well  that  it 
wasn't  about  his  wrist  when  he  came  back  over  the 
wall.  Goldberger  knows  it,  too,  and  we'll  be 
asked  about  it,  next  time." 

"  It  might  have  been  pushed  up  his  sleeve  < — » 
we  weren't  absolutely  certain.  But  this  new  evi- 
dence settles  it." 

I  assented  miserably  and  Godfrey  smoked  on 
thoughtfully.  But  my  cigar  had  lost  some  of  its 
flavour. 

"  How  did  Miss  Vaughan  come  to  find  the 
body?  "  he  asked  at  last,  and  I  told  him  the  story 
as  she  had  told  it  to  me.  He  thought  it  over  for 
some  moments;  then  he  leaned  forward  and  laid 
his  hand  on  my  knee. 

"  Now,  Lester,"  he  said,  "  let's  review  this 
thing.  It  can't  be  as  dark  as  it  seems  —  there's 
light  somewhere.  Here  is  the  case,  bared  of  all 
inessentials:  Swain  crosses  the  wall  about  eleven 
o'clock,  cutting  his  wrist  as  he  does  so;  Miss 
Vaughan  meets  him  about  eleven-thirty,  and  after 
a  time,  finds  that  his  wrist  is  bleeding  and  ties  her 
handkerchief  about  it;  they  agree  to  have  her 
father  examined  for  lunacy,  arrange  a  meeting  for 
die  next  night,  and  are  about  to  separate,  when 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          221 

her  father  rushes  in  upon  them,  savagely  berates 
Swain  and  takes  his  daughter  away.  That  must 
have  been  about  twelve  o'clock. 

"  Swain,  according  to  his  story,  sits  there  for 
ten  or  fifteen  minutes,  finally  sees  the  cobra,  or 
thinks  he  does,  and  makes  a  dash  for  safety,  strik- 
ing his  head  sharply  against  a  tree.  He  tumbles 
over  the  wall  in  a  half-dazed  condition.  The 
handkerchief  is  no  longer  about  his  wrist.  That, 
you  will  remember,  was  about  twelve-twenty. 

"  Almost  at  once  we  heard  Miss  Vaughan'a 
screams.  After  that,  Swain  isn't  out  of  our  sight 
for  more  than  a  minute  —  too  short  a  time,  any- 
way, for  anything  to  have  happened  we  don't  know 
about. 

"  Meanwhile,  Miss  Vaughan  has  returned  with 
her  father  to  the  house,  hearing  steps  behind  her 
and  taking  it  for  granted  that  it  is  Swain  follow- 
ing at  a  distance.  She  goes  to  her  room,  stays 
there  fifteen  minutes  or  so,  and  comes  downstairs 
again  to  find  her  father  dead. 

"  Now  let  us  see  what  had  happened.  You 
were  right  in  saying  that  her  father  must  have  been 
strangled  immediately  after  she  left  him.  Other- 
wise he  would  still  have  been  twitching  in  such  a 
way  that  she  must  have  noticed  it.  No  doubt  he 
dropped  into  the  chair  exhausted  by  his  fit  of  rage; 
the  murderer  entered  through  the  garden  door, 


222          THE   GLOVED   HAND 

stopped  to  cut  off  the  end  of  the  curtain-cord  and 
make  a  noose  of  it  —  that  would  have  taken  at 
least  a  minute  —  and  then  strangled  his  victim. 
Then  he  heard  her  coming  down  the  stairs,  and 
escaped  through  the  garden-door  again  just  as 
she  entered  at  the  other.  She  saw  the  curtain  still 
shaking.  Then  she  fainted. 

"  Now,  what  are  the  clues  to  the  murderer?  A 
string  tied  with  a  peculiar  knot,  the  blood-stained 
handkerchief,  and  the  finger-prints  on  the  dead 
man's  robe." 

Godfrey  paused  for  a  moment.  Freed  of  its 
inessentials,  in  this  way,  the  case  was  beautifully 
clear  —  and  beautifully  baffling.  It  was  a  paved 
way,  smooth  and  wide  and  without  obstruction  of 
any  kind;  but  it  ended  in  a  cul-de-sac! 

"  One  thing  is  certain,"  Godfrey  went  on,  at 
last;  "  the  murder  was  committed  by  somebody  - 
either  by  Swain,  or  by  one  of  the  Hindus,  or  by 
some  unknown.     Let  us  weigh  the  evidence   for 
and  against  each  of  them. 

"  Against  Swain  it  may  be  urged  that  he  was  on 
the  ground,  that  he  had  time  to  do  it,  and  some 
provocation,  though  the  provocation,  as  we  know 
it,  seems  to  be  inadequate,  provided  Swain  was  in 
his  right  mind;  a  handkerchief  which  was  tied 
about  his  wrist  is  found  beside  the  body,  and  his 
finger-prints  are  found  upon  it.  Miss  Vaughan  be- 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          223 

lieved  he  was  following  them;  he  admits  that  he 
thought  of  doing  so. 

"  In  his  favour,  it  may  be  urged  that  a 
man  like  Swain  doesn't  commit  murder  — 
though,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  this  is  a  danger- 
ous generalisation,  for  all  sorts  of  men  com- 
mit murder;  but  if  he  should  do  so,  it  would 
be  only  under  great  provocation  and  in  the 
heat  of  anger,  certainly  not  in  cold  blood  with  a 
noose;  and,  finally,  if  the  motion  of  the  curtain 
Miss  Vaughan  noticed  was  made  by  the  murderer, 
it  couldn't  possibly  have  been  Swain,  because  he 
was  with  us  at  that  moment.  You  will  see  that 
there  is  a  mass  of  evidence  against  him,  and  prac- 
tically the  whole  defence  is  that  such  a  crime  would 
be  impossible  to  one  of  his  temperament.  You 
know  yourself  how  flimsy  such  a  defence  is. 

"  Against  the  Hindus,  on  the  other  hand,  prac- 
tically the  only  basis  for  suspicion  is  that  such  a 
crime  might  be  temperamentally  possible  to  them. 
They  may  have  been  on  the  ground,  and  the 
method  of  the  murder  savours  strongly  of  Thuggee 
—  though  don't  forget  that  Swain  admitted  he 
could  have  tied  that  knot.  Besides,  if  it  was  the 
Thug  who  followed  them,  he  wouldn't  have  made 
any  noise,  and  most  certainly  he  couldn't  have  left 
the  prints  of  Swain's  fingers  on  the  body.  But 
if  Swain  is  right  in  his  assertion  that  he  saw  the 


224          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

snake  in  the  arbour,  it  is  probable  that  the  Thug 
wasn't  far  away. 

"  Against  an  unknown  it  may  be  urged  that 
neither  Swain  nor  the  Hindus  could  have  com- 
mitted the  crime ;  but  I  don't  see  how  an  unknown 
could  either,  unless  he  happened  to  be  one  of  the 
three  or  four  people  in  the  world  with  finger-tips 
like  Swain's.  And  that  is  too  far-fetched  to  be 
believable. 

"  But  this  I  am  sure  of,  Lester,"  and  Godfrey 
leaned  forward  again :  "  the  murder  was  com- 
mitted either  by  Swain  or  by  someone  anxious  to 
implicate  Swain.  We  agree  that  it  wasn't  Swain. 
Very  well,  then:  the  person  who  committed  the 
murder  made  a  noise  in  following  Miss  Vaughan 
and  her  father  so  that  she  should  think  it  was 
Swain  who  was  following  them;  he  picked  up  the 
blood-stained  handkerchief,  which  Swain  had 
dropped  perhaps  when  he  fled  from  the  arbour, 
and  placed  it  beside  the  body;  and  in  some  way 
inconceivable  to  me  he  pressed  the  prints  of 
Swain's  fingers  on  the  dead  man's  robe.  Now,  to 
do  that,  he  must  have  known  that  Swain  was  in- 
jured —  the  blood-stained  handkerchief  would  tell 
him  that;  but  he  must  also  have  known  that  it  was 
his  right  hand  that  was  injured.  There  was  no 
blood  on  Swain's  left  hand." 

Again  Godfrey  paused.     I  was  following  his 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          225 

reasoning  with  such  absorbed  attention  that  I  could 
feel  my  brain  crinkle  with  the  effort. 

"  Now,  listen,"  said  Godfrey,  and  I  could  have 
smiled  at  the  uselessness  of  the  admonition  —  as 
if  I  were  not  already  listening  with  all  my  faculties ! 
"  There  Is  only  one  way  in  which  the  murderer 
could  have  known  that  it  was  Swain's  right  hand, 
and  that  was  by  overhearing  the  conversation  in 
the  arbour.  But  if  he  overheard  that  much,  he 
overheard  it  all,  and  he  knew  therefore  what  it 
was  Swain  proposed  to  do.  He  knew  that 
Vaughan's  sanity  was  to  be  questioned;  he  knew 
that  he  would  probably  be  placed  in  a  sanitarium; 
he  knew  that  Miss  Vaughan  would  probably  marry 
Swain.  Presuming  that  it  was  Silva,  he  knew  that, 
unless  something  was  done  to  stop  it,  a  very  few 
days  would  place  both  Vaughan  and  his  daughter 
beyond  his  reach." 

"  That  is  true,"  I  admitted;  "  but  Vaughan  was 
beyond  his  reach  a  good  deal  more  certainly  dead 
than  he  would  have  been  in  a  sanitarium.  Be- 
sides, it  isn't  at  all  certain  that  he  would  have  been 
sent  to  a  sanitarium." 

'That's  an  objection,  surely,"  Godfrey  agreed; 
"  but  I  must  find  out  if  Vaughan  is  really  beyond 
Us  reach  dead." 

I  stared  at  him. 

"  You  don't  mean.  ." 


226          THE    GLOVED   HAND 

"  I  don't  know  what  I  mean,  Lester.  I  can  feel 
a  sort  of  dim  meaning  at  the  back  of  my  mind,  but 
I  can't  get  it  out  into  the  light." 

"  Besides,"  I  went  on,  "  if  the  yogi  did  it,  how 
did  he  get  back  into  the  house  before  we  got 
there?" 

"  He  peeped  in  at  the  door,  saw  the  coast  was 
clear,  and  went  back  through  the  library.  Re- 
member, Miss  Vaughan  was  unconscious.  That 
doesn't  bother  me.  And  another  thing,  Lester. 
How  did  Miss  Vaughan's  father  come  to  burst  in 
on  her  and  Swain  like  that?  How  did  he  know 
they  were  in  the  arbour?  It  was  dark  and  he 
couldn't  have  seen  either  of  them." 

"  He  might  have  been  walking  about  the 
grounds  and  overheard  them." 

"  I  don't  believe  it.  I  believe  somebody  told 
him  they  were  there.  And  only  one  person  could 
have  told  him  —  that  is  Silva.  No  —  there's 
only  one  point  I  can't  get  past  —  that's  the  finger- 
prints." 

And  then  I  remembered. 

"  Godfrey,"  I  cried,  "  there's  one  thing  —  I  for- 
got  to  tell  you.  You  heard  Swain  remark  that 
Vaughan  was  a  collector  of  finger-prints?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  And  that  he  had  a  set  of  Swain's?  " 

"  Yes." 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          227 

"  Well,  when  I  told  Miss  Vaughan  about  the 
prints  on  her  father's  robe,  she  ran  to  a  book- 
case and  got  out  a  book.  It  had  Vaughan's  col- 
lection in  it,  all  bound  together.  But  the  page 
on  which  Swain's  were  had  been  torn  out." 

Godfrey  sat  for  a  moment,  staring  at  me  spell- 
bound. Then  he  began  pacing  up  and  down  the 
study,  like  a  tiger  in  its  cage;  up  and  down,  up 
and  down. 

"  I'm  bound  to  add,"  I  went  on  finally,  "  that 
Hinman  suggested  a  very  plausible  reason  for 
their  disappearance." 

"  What  was  it?" 

"  He  said  they  were  probably  destroyed  by 
Vaughan  himself,  because  of  his  dislike  of  Swain. 
He  said  that  would  be  characteristic  of  Vaughan's 
form  of  insanity." 

Godfrey  took  another  turn  up  and  down,  then 
he  stopped  in  front  of  my  chair. 

"What  did  Miss  Vaughan  think  of  that  ex- 
planation?" he  asked. 

"  It  didn't  seem  to  impress  her,  but  I  don't  re- 
member that  she  made  any  comment." 

He  stood  a  moment  longer  staring  down  at  me, 
and  I  could  feel  the  intense  concentration  of  his 
mind;  then  he  ran  his  fingers  impatiently  through 
his  hair. 

"  I  can't  get  it,  Lester!  "  he  said.     "  I  can't  get 


228          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

it.  But  I  will  get  it !  It's  there !  It's  there,  just 
out  of  reach."  He  shrugged  his  shoulders  and 
glanced  at  his  watch.  "  I'm  getting  dippy,"  he 
added,  in  another  tone.  "  Let's  go  out  and  get  a 
breath  of  air." 

I  followed  him  out  into  the  yard  —  I  knew 
where  he  was  going —  among  the  trees  and  up  the 
ladder.  Silently  we  took  our  places  on  the  limb; 
silently  we  stared  out  into  the  darkness. 

And  there,  presently,  the  strange  star  glowed 
and  burned  steel-blue,  and  floated  slowly  down, 
and  burst  above  a  white-robed  figure,  standing  as 
though  carved  in  marble,  its  arms  extended,  its 
head  thrown  back. 

"  That  fellow  is  certainly  an  artist,"  Godfrey 
muttered,  as  he  led  the  way  back  to  the  house. 


CHAPTER    XIX 

THE  YOGI  CONQUERS 

THE  events  of  the  day  that  followed  —  Sunday  — 
I  shall  pass  over  as  briefly  as  may  be.  It  was  for 
me  a  day  of  disappointment,  culminating  in  de- 
spair, and,  looking  back  at  it,  I  remember  it  as  a 
grey  day,  windy,  and  with  gusts  of  rain. 

Dr.  Hinman  stopped  for  us,  and  Godfrey  and 
I  accompanied  him  to  the  service  over  the  body 
of  the  murdered  man.  We  were  the  only  out- 
siders there,  besides  the  undertaker  and  his  as- 
sistants, and  they  were  not  admitted  to  the  cere- 
mony. This  was  witnessed  only  by  Miss  Vaughan, 
Mahbub  and  us  three.  The  servants  were  not 
there,  and  neither  were  Miss  Vaughan's  nurses. 

I  have  never  seen  a  more  impressive  figure  than 
Silva  made  that  morning.  His  robes  were  dead 
black,  and  in  contrast  to  them  and  to  his  hair  and 
beard,  his  face  looked  white  as  marble.  But, 
after  the  first  moments,  the  ceremony  failed  to  in- 
terest me;  for  Silva  spoke  a  language  which  I 
supposed  to  be  Hindustani,  and  there  was  a  mo- 
notony about  it  and  about  his  gestures  which  ended 
in  getting  on  my  nerves.  It  lasted  half  an  hour, 

229 


23o          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

and  the  moment  it  was  over,  Miss  Vaughan 
slipped  away.  The  yogi  and  Mahbub  followed 
her,  and  then  we  three  stepped  forward  for  a  last 
look  at  the  body. 

It  was  robed  all  in  white.  The  undertaker  had 
managed  to  compose  the  features,  and  the  high 
stock  concealed  the  ugly  marks  upon  the  neck.  So 
there  was  nothing  to  tell  of  the  manner  of  his 
death,  and  there  was  a  certain  majesty  about  him 
as  he  lay  with  hands  crossed  and  eyes  closed. 

We  left  the  room  in  silence,  and  Hinman 
signed  to  the  undertaker  that  the  service  was  ended. 

"  I  am  going  with  the  body  to  the  crematory," 
he  said,  and  presently  drove  away  with  the  under- 
taker, ahead  of  the  hearse.  Godfrey  and  I  stood 
gazing  after  it  until  it  passed  from  sight,  then,  in 
silence,  we  walked  down  the  drive  to  the  entrance. 
The  gardener  was  standing  there,  and  regarded 
us  with  eyes  which  seemed  to  me  distinctly  un- 
friendly. He  made  no  sign  of  recognition,  and, 
the  moment  we  were  outside,  he  closed  the  gates 
and  locked  them  carefully,  as  though  obeying  pre- 
cise instructions. 

"  So,"  said  Godfrey,  in  a  low  tone,  as  we  went 
on  together,  "  the  lock  has  been  repaired.  I  won- 
der who  ordered  that  done?  " 

"  Miss  Vaughan,  no  doubt,"  I  answered.  "  She 
wouldn't  want  those  gates  gaping  open." 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          231 

"Perhaps  not,"  Godfrey  assented;  "but  would 
she  want  the  barrier  intact?  Remember,  Lester, 
it's  as  much  a  barrier  from  one  side  as  from  the 
other." 

"  Well,  she  won't  be  inside  it  much  longer,"  I 
assured  him.  "  I'm  going  to  get  her  out  this  aft- 
ernoon." 

The  words  were  uttered  with  a  confidence  I  was 
far  from  feeling,  and  I  rather  expected  Godfrey  to 
challenge  it,  but  he  walked  on  without  replying,  his 
head  bent  in  thought,  and  did  not  again  speak  of 
Miss  Vaughan  or  her  affairs. 

He  drove  into  the  city  shortly  after  lunch, 
and  it  was  about  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  when 
I  presented  myself  again  at  the  gates  of  Elmhurst 
and  rang  the  bell.  I  waited  five  minutes  and  rang 
again.  Finally  the  gardener  came  shuffling  down 
the  drive  and  asked  me  what  I  wanted.  I  told  him 
I  had  an  appointment  with  his  mistress;  but,  in- 
stead of  admitting  me,  he  took  my  card  and  shuf- 
fled away  with  it. 

I  confess  that  I  grew  angry,  as  I  stood  there 
kicking  my  heels  at  the  roadside,  for  he  was  gone 
a  long  time,  and  all  these  precautions  and  delays 
were  incomprehensible  to  me.  But  he  came  back 
at  last,  unlocked  the  gate  without  a  word,  and  mo- 
tioned me  to  enter.  Then  he  locked  it  again,  and 
led  the  way  up  the  drive  to  the  house.  The  house- 


232          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

maid  met  us  at  the  door  of  the  library,  as  though 
she  had  been  stationed  there. 

u  If  you  will  wait  here,  sir,"  she  said,  "  Miss 
Vaughan  will  see  you." 

"  I  hope  she  is  well,"  I  ventured,  thinking  the 
girl  might  furnish  me  with  some  clue  to  all  this 
mystery,  but  she  was  already  at  the  door. 

"  Quite  well,  sir,"  she  said,  and  the  next  in- 
stant had  disappeared. 

Another  ten  minutes  elapsed,  and  then,  just  as 
I  was  thinking  seriously  of  putting  on  my  hat  and 
leaving  the  house,  I  heard  a  step  coming  down 
the  stair.  A  moment  later  Miss  Vaughan  stood 
on  the  threshold. 

I  had  taken  it  for  granted  that,  relieved  of  her 
father's  presence,  she  would  return  to  the  clothing 
of  every  day;  but  she  still  wore  the  flowing  white 
semi-Grecian  garb  in  which  I  had  first  seen  her. 
I  could  not  but  admit  that  it  added  grace  and 
beauty  to  her  figure,  as  well  as  a  certain  impres- 
siveness  impossible  to  petticoats;  and  yet  I  felt  a 
sense  of  disappointment.  For  her  retention  of 
the  costume  could  only  mean  that  her  father's  in- 
fluence was  still  dominant. 

"  You  wished  to  see  me?  "  she  asked;  and  again 
I  was  surprised,  for  I  had  supposed  she  would 
apologise  for  the  delay  to  which  I  had  been  sub- 
jected. Instead,  she  spoke  almost  as  to  a  stranger. 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          233 

"  I  had  an  appointment  for  this  afternoon,"  I 
reminded  her,  striving  to  keep  my  vexation  from 
my  voice. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  and  she  came  a  few  steps  into  the 
room,  but  her  face  lost  none  of  its  coldness.  "  I 
had  forgotten.  It  is  not  to  speak  of  business?  " 

"  No,"  I  said;  "  it  is  to  speak  of  your  going  to 
friends  of  Mr.  Swain  and  me  —  for  a  time,  at 
least." 

"  You  will  thank  your  friends  for  me,"  she  an- 
swered, calmly;  "but  I  have  decided  to  remain 
here." 

"  But  —  but,"  I  stammered,  taken  aback  at  the 
finality  of  her  tone,  "  do  you  think  it  wise?  " 

"  Yes  —  far  wiser  than  going  to  people  I  do  not 
know  and  who  do  not  know  me." 

"And  safe,"  I  persisted;  "do  you  think  it 
safe?" 

"Safe?"  she  echoed,  looking  at  me  in  aston- 
ishment. "  Certainly.  What  have  I  to  fear?  " 

I  had  to  confess  that  I  myself  did  not  know 
very  clearly  what  she  had  to  fear,  so  I  temporised. 

"  Are  you  keeping  the  nurses?  " 

"No;  I  do  not  need  them.  They  left  an  hour 
ago." 

"  But  the  servants,"  I  said,  in  a  panic,  "  they 
are  here?  They  are  going  to  stay?  " 

Again  she  looked  at  me. 


234          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

"  Your  questions  seem  most  extraordinary  to 
me,  Mr.  Lester.  Of  course  the  servants  will 
stay." 

"And  —  and  the  Hindus?"  I  blurted  out. 

"  Yes,  and  the  Hindus,  as  you  call  them.  This 
is  their  home.  It  was  my  father's  wish." 

I  gave  it  up;  her  manner  indicated  that  all  this 
was  no  concern  of  mine,  and  that  my  interference 
was  a  mere  impertinence.  But  I  tried  one  parting 
shot. 

"Mr.  Swain  is  very  anxious  you  should  not  stay 
here,"  I  said.  "  He  will  be  deeply  grieved  when 
he  learns  your  decision." 

To  this  she  made  no  answer,  and,  finding  noth- 
ing more  to  say,  sore  at  heart,  and  not  a  little 
angry  and  resentful,  I  started  to  leave  the  room. 

"  There  is  one  thing  more,"  I  said,  turning  back 
at  the  threshold.  "  I  shall  have  to  go  in  to  the 
city  to-morrow,  but  I  shall  come  out  again  in  the 
evening.  Would  it  be  convenient  to  have  our 
business  conference  after  dinner?" 

4  Yes,"  she  agreed;  "that  will  do  very  well." 

"  At  eight  o'clock,  then?  " 

"  I  shall  expect  you  at  that  time,"  she  assented; 
and  with  that  I  took  my  leave. 

It  was  in  a  most  depressed  state  of  mind  that 
I  made  my  way  back  to  Godfrey's ;  and  I  sat  down 
on  the  porch  and  smoked  a  pipe  of  bitter  medita- 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          235 

tion.  For  I  felt  that,  somehow,  Miss  Vaughan 
was  slipping  away  from  me.  There  had  been  a 
barrier  between  us  to-day  which  had  not  been  there 
before,  a  barrier  of  coldness  and  reserve  which  I 
could  not  penetrate.  Some  hostile  influence  had 
been  at  work;  in  death,  even  more  than  in  life, 
perhaps,  her  father's  will  weighed  upon  her.  I 
could  imagine  how  a  feeling  of  remorse  might 
grow  and  deepen,  and  urge  her  toward  foolish 
and  useless  sacrifice. 

And  just  then  Mrs.  Hargis  came  out  and  told 
me  that  someone  wanted  me  on  the  'phone.  It 
was  Swain. 

'  They  let  me  come  out  here  to  the  office  to 
'phone  to  you,"  he  said,  as  he  heard  my  exclama- 
tion of  surprise.  "  Simmonds  happened  in  and 
told  them  it  would  be  all  right.  He's  here  now." 

"  And  they're  treating  you  all  right?  " 
'  They're  treating  me  like  the  star  boarder,"  he 
laughed.     And  then  his  voice  grew  suddenly  seri- 
ous.    "Have  you  seen  Miss  Vaughan?" 

'Yes,"  I  answered;  for  I  knew  of  course  that 
the  question  was  coming. 

"Well?" 

"  Miss  Vaughan  refuses  to  go  to  the  Royces', 
Swain." 

There  was  a  moment's  silence. 

"  Then  where  will  she  go?  " 


236          THE    GLOVED   HAND 

"  She  won't  go  anywhere." 

"  You  don't  mean,"  he  cried,  panic  in  his  voice, 
"  that  she's  going  to  stay  out  there?  " 

'  Yes ;  she  laughed  when  I  mentioned  dan- 
ger. There's  one  consolation  —  the  servants  wilt 
stay." 

"  Did  you  tell  her  how  anxious  I  was  for  her?  " 

"  Yes;  I  did  my  best,  Swain." 

"  And  it  made  no  difference?  " 

"No;  it  made  no  difference.  The  fact  is, 
Swain,  I  fancy  she's  a  little  remorseful  about  her 
father- — his  death  has  unnerved  her  —  and  there 
was  the  funeral  to-day  —  and,  as  a  sort  of  atone- 
ment, she's  trying  to  do  what  she  imagines  he 
would  wish  her  to  do." 

"  He  wished  her  to  become  a  priestess,"  said 
Swain,  his  voice  ghastly. 

"  Oh,  well,  she  won't  go  that  far,"  I  assured 
him  cheerfully;  "  and  no  doubt  in  a  few  days,  when 
the  first  impression  of  the  tragedy  has  worn  off, 
she  will  be  ready  to  go  to  the  Royces'.  I'll  keep 
suggesting  it,  and  I'm  going  to  have  Mrs.  Royce 
call  on  her." 

"  Thank  you,  Mr.  Lester,"  he  said,  but  his 
voice  was  still  shaking.  "I  —  this  sort  of  knocks 
me  out  —  I  hadn't  foreseen  it.  I'll  have  to  think 
it  over.  But  there's  one  thing  you  can  do." 

"  What  is  it?  " 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          237 

"  Watch  the  house !  "  he  cried.  "  Watch  the 
house!  And  be  ready  if  she  screams  again." 

"  All  right,"  I  said,  soothingly,  "  I'll  do  that. 
But  tell  me,  Swain,  what  is  it  you  fear?  " 

"  I  fear  Silva !  "  said  Swain,  in  a  voice  husky 
with  emotion.  "  It  isn't  remorse  for  her  father 

—  it's  Silva  who's  working  on  her.    I  feel  it,  some 
way  —  I'm  sure  of  it.     God  knows  what  he'll  try 

—  any  villainy.     You  must  watch  the  house,  Mr. 
Lester  —  day    and    night    you    must    watch    the 
house!" 

"  All  right,"  I  said,  again,  strangely  impressed 
by  his  words.  "  You  may  count  on  me." 

'  Thank  you,"  he  said.  "  Remember,  we've 
only  you.  Good-bye." 

Swain's  words  gave  me  plenty  to  think  over, 
and  left  me  so  troubled  and  uneasy  that  I  made 
a  trip  to  the  top  of  the  ladder  to  take  a  look  over 
Elmhurst.  But  everything  appeared  as  usual. 
Perhaps  Swain  was  right  —  perhaps  it  was  Silva 
who  was  using  every  minute  to  increase  his  influ- 
ence; but  what  could  I  do?  So  long  -as  he  com- 
mitted no  overt  act,  there  was  no  excuse  for  inter- 
ference, and  Miss  Vaughan  would  undoubtedly 
resent  it.  As  Swain  had  said,  there  was  nothing 
that  I  could  do  but  watch. 

Two  hours  later,  just  as  I  was  getting  up  from 
a  dinner  to  which,  in  my  perturbed  condition,  I 


238  THE    GLOVED    HAND 

had  done  small  justice,  I  heard  a  ring  at  the  bell, 
and  presently  Mrs.  Hargis  entered  to  tell  me  that 
there  was  a  gentleman  asking  for  me.  I  went  out 
to  meet  him,  and  was  astonished  to  find  that  it  was 
Simmonds. 

"  I  don't  wonder  you're  surprised,"  he  said,  as 
we  sat  down.  "  Fact  is,  I'm  surprised  myself, 
for  I  don't  know  exactly  what  I'm  to  do  out  here. 
But  Swain,  after  he  got  back  to  his  cell,  was  like 
a  crazy  man;  he  was  sure  something  dreadful  was 
going  to  happen  to  Miss  Vaughan  if  she  stayed 
in  the  house  with  those  Hindus.  In  the  end,  he 
got  me  kind  of  scared,  too,  and  made  me  promise 
to  come  out  and  help  you  keep  watch.  I  went 
down  to  the  Record  office  and  had  a  talk  with  God- 
frey before  I  started.  I  half  expected  him  to 
laugh  at  me;  but  he  seemed  to  think  I'd  better 
come.  The  fact  is,"  concluded  Simmonds,  shift- 
ing his  cigar  to  the  other  side  of  his  mouth,  "  he 
was  so  serious  about  it,  that  I  brought  two  men 
along.  One  of  them's  patrolling  the  road  in  front 
of  the  house,  and  the  other  the  road  along  the  side. 
I've  arranged  for  two  others  to  relieve  them  at 
midnight.  Now,  what's  it  all  about,  anyway?  " 

"  Well,"  I  said,  "  in  the  first  place,  neither  God- 
frey nor  I  believes  that  Swain  strangled  that  man." 

"  I  can't  hardly  believe  it  myself,"  agreed  Sim- 
monds, "  for  he  seems  a  nice  young  feller;  but  it's 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          239 

a  clear  case:  there's  the  motive,  he  was  on  the 
ground,  and  there's  the  finger-prints.  How  can 
you  explain  them  away?" 

"  I  can't  explain  them  away.  But,  just  the  same, 
Godfrey  believes  the  murder  was  committed  by 
one  of  those  Hindus." 

"  He  intimated  something  of  the  sort  to  me," 
said  Simmonds;  "but  there's  no  evidence  against 
them." 

"No,"  I  conceded;  "that's  what  we've  got  to 
find." 

"  Where  are  we  going  to  look  for  it?  " 

"  There's  only  one  place  to  look  for  it,  and 
that's  in  the  house  where  the  murder  was  com- 
mitted. I  only  wish  we  could  get  Miss  Vaughan 
out  of  it  —  that  would  give  us  a  freer  hand." 

"  What's  the  matter  with  the  fool  girl,  any- 
way?" demanded  Simmonds.  "I  should  think 
she'd  jump  at  a  chance  to  get  away." 

"  So  should  I  —  but  she  isn't  reasonable,  just 
now.  I  can't  make  her  out.  Perhaps  she'll  come 
round  in  a  day  or  two,  but  meanwhile,  if  she  should 
happen  to  need  help,  I  don't  see  how  your  men 
out  on  the  road,  on  the  other  side  of  a  twelve-foot 
wall,  could  do  any  good." 

Simmonds  rubbed  his  chin  thoughtfully. 

"  What  would  you  suggest?  "  he  asked,  at  last. 

"  Why  not  put  them  in  the  grounds,  as  soon  as 


24o          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

it  is  dark,  and  let  them  conceal  themselves  near 
the  house?  They  can  get  over  the  wall  on  this 
side.  We've  got  ladders.  Besides,"  I  added, 
"  it  would  be  a  great  mistake  to  give  Silva  any 
reason  to  suspect  he's  being  watched.  He'd  see 
the  men  out  on  the  road,  sooner  or  later;  but  they 
could  keep  out  of  sight  among  the  shrubbery." 

Simmonds  considered  this  for  a  moment. 

"  I  don't  know  but  what  you're  right,"  he 
agreed,  at  last.  "  We'll  arrange  it  that  way, 
then,"  and  he  went  away  presently  to  call  in  his 
men.  He  soon  came  back  with  them,  and  gave 
them  careful  and  detailed  instructions  as  to  what 
he  wanted  them  to  do,  dwelling  especially  upon 
the  importance  of  their  keeping  carefully  con- 
cealed. Then  we  got  the  ladders  and  put  them 
in  place. 

"  Be  careful  not  to  touch  the  top  of  the  wall," 
I  cautioned  them;  "there's  broken  glass  on  top, 
and  the  merest  touch  may  mean  a  bad  injury." 

"  When  you  get  down  on  the  other  side,"  Sim- 
monds added,  "  take  down  the  ladder  and  hide  it 
in  the  shrubbery  at  the  foot  of  the  wall.  Some- 
body might  see  it  if  you  left  it  standing  there. 
But  for  heaven's  sake,  don't  get  mixed  up  so  you 
can't  find  it  again.  Be  back  here  at  eleven-thirty, 
and  your  relief  will  be  ready.  You've  got  your 
whistles?  Well,  blow  them  good  and  hard  if 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          241 

there's  any  trouble.  And  be  mighty  careful  not 
to  let  anyone  see  you,  or  you  may  get  snake-bit!  " 

The  men  mounted  the  ladder,  crossed  the  wall 
and  disappeared  on  the  other  side,  and  Simmonds 
and  I  turned  back  to  the  house.  I  felt  as  though 
a  great  load  had  been  lifted  from  my  shoulders. 
With  those  two  men  so  close  at  hand,  surely  noth- 
ing very  serious  could  happen  to  Miss  Vaughan! 

Simmonds  and  I  spent  the  remainder  of  the 
evening  in  discussing  the  case,  but  neither  of  us 
was  able  to  shed  any  new  light  upon  it.  Shortly 
after  eleven,  the  two  men  who  were  to  form  the 
relief  arrived,  and  just  as  we  started  for  the  wall, 
Godfrey  drove  in  from  the  highway.  It  needed 
but  a  moment  to  tell  him  of  our  arrangements, 
which  he  heartily  approved.  He  joined  us,  and 
we  were  soon  at  the  foot  of  the  ladder.  While 
we  waited,  Simmonds  gave  the  new  men  the  same 
minute  instructions  he  had  given  the  others;  and 
presently  we  heard  a  slight  scraping  against  the 
wall,  and  the  men  who  had  been  on  duty  re- 
crossed  it. 

They  had  nothing  of  especial  interest  to  report. 
The  yogi  and  Miss  Vaughan  had  taken  a  stroll 
through  the  grounds  early  in  the  evening;  and  my 
heart  sank  as  the  detective  added  that  they  seemed 
to  be  talking  earnestly  together.  Then  they  ha*d 
re-entered  the  house,  and  Miss  Vaughan  had  re- 


242          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

mained  in  the  library  looking  at  a  book,  while  her 
companion  passed  on  out  of  sight.  At  the  end 
of  an  hour,  she  had  closed  the  book,  shut  and 
locked  the  outer  door,  and  turned  out  the  light. 
Another  light  had  appeared  shortly  afterwards  in 
a  room  upstairs.  It,  too,  had  been  extinguished 
half  an  hour  later,  and  the  detectives  presumed 
that  she  had  gone  to  bed.  After  that,  the  house 
had  remained  in  complete  darkness.  The  serv- 
ants had  spent  the  evening  sitting  on  a  porch  at 
the  rear  of  the  house,  talking  together,  but  had 
gone  in  early,  presumably  to  bed. 

When  the  men  had  finished  their  report,  Sim- 
monds  dismissed  them,  and  the  two  who  were  to 
take  up  the  watch  crossed  the  wall  and  passed 
from  sight. 

"  And  now,  Simmonds,"  said  Godfrey,  "  come 
along  and  I'll  show  you  what  started  me  to  watch- 
ing that  house,  and  caused  me  to  get  Lester  out 
here." 

Simmonds  followed  him  up  the  ladder  without 
a  word,  and  I  came  along  behind.  We  were  soon 
on  the  limb. 

"  Of  course,"   Godfrey  added,  when  we  were 
in  place,  "  it  is  just  possible  that  nothing  will  hap- 
pen.    But  I  think  the  show  will  come  off  as  usual. 
Look   straight  out  over   the   trees,    Simmonds  - 
ah!" 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          243 

High  in  the  heavens  that  strange  star  sprang 
suddenly  into  being,  glowed,  brightened,  burned 
steel-blue;  then  slowly  and  slowly  it  floated  down, 
straight  down;  hovered,  burst  into  a  thousand 
sparks.  .  .  . 

And,  scarcely  able  to  believe  my  eyes,  I  saw 
standing  there  against  the  night  two  white-robed 
figures,  with  arms  extended  and  faces  raised;  and 
then  they  vanished  again  into  the  darkness. 

For  an  instant  we  sat  there  silent,  still  staring. 
Then  Godfrey  drew  a  deep  breath. 

"  I  feared  so!  "  he  said.  "  Miss  Vaughan  has 
become  a  convert!  " 

And  he  led  the  way  down  the  ladder. 


CHAPTER   XX 

CHECKMATE  ! 

I  WAS  honestly  glad  to  get  back  to  the  office, 
next  morning,  for  I  felt  the  need  of  work  —  ab- 
sorbing work  —  to  take  my  mind  off  the  problem 
of  Worthington  Vaughan's  death,  and  especially 
to  relieve  me  from  the  depression  into  which  his 
daughter's  inexplicable  conduct  had  plunged  me. 
When  I  thought  of  her,  it  was  with  impatience 
and  aversion,  for  I  felt  that  she  had  deserted  to 
the  enemy  and  turned  her  back  upon  the  man  who 
loved  her,  in  the  hour  of  his  utmost  need. 

As  I  saw  it,  her  conduct  was  little  short  of 
heartless.  She  had  summoned  her  lover  to  her 
side,  and  he  had  come ;  instantly  and  without  hesi- 
tation, without  pausing  to  consider  the  danger  to 
himself,  he  had  answered  her  call;  in  consequence 
of  that  high  devotion,  he  was  now  in  prison, 
charged  with  a  dreadful  crime;  but,  instead  of 
hastening  to  him,  instead  of  standing  by  his  side 
and  proclaiming  to  the  whole  world  her  belief  in 
his  innocence,  she  deliberately  stood  aloof.  It  was 
almost  as  if  she  herself  believed  in  his  guilt!  The 
world,  at  least,  could  draw  no  other  inference. 

244 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          245 

But  she  had  done  more  than  that.  She  had 
abandoned  herself  to  the  fate  from  which  he  had 
tried  to  save  her.  Her  presence  at  Silva's  side 
could  have  only  one  meaning  —  she  had  become 
his  disciple,  had  accepted  his  faith,  was  ready  to 
follow  him.  The-  thought  turned  me  sick  at  heart, 
for  her  as  well  as  for  Swain,  but  for  Swain  most 
of  all,  for  he  had  done  nothing  to  merit  such  mis- 
fortune, while  she,  at  least,  had  chosen  her  road 
and  was  following  it  with  open  eyes.  Small 
wonder  that  I  thought  of  her  with  anger  and  re- 
sentment, yes,  and  with  a  vague  distrust,  for,  at 
the  very  back  of  my  mind  was  the  suspicion  that 
she  had  been  a  decoy  to  lure  Swain  to  his  destruc- 
tion. 

I  threw  myself  feverishly  into  the  work  which 
had  accumulated  at  the  office,  in  order  to  tear  my 
mind  away  from  thoughts  like  these;  but  when 
Mr.  Royce  arrived,  I  had  to  go  over  the  case 
with  him,  and  I  have  seldom  seen  a  man  more 
puzzled  or  astonished. 

"  I  shall  defend  Swain,  of  course,"  I  concluded, 
"  and  I'm  hoping  that  something  in  his  favour  will 
turn  up  before  long,  but  I  haven't  the  remotest 
idea  what  it  will  be.  He  can't  be  tried  till  fall, 
and  meanwhile  I'm  afraid  he'll  have  to  stay  in 
jail." 

"  Yes;  I  see  no  way  of  getting  him  out,"  agreed 


246          THE    GLOVED   HAND 

my  partner.  "  But  the  girl's  danger  is  much  more 
serious.  Can't  we  do  something  for  her?  " 

"  It's  difficult  to  do  anything  against  her  will," 
I  pointed  out.  "  Besides,  I've  lost  interest  in  her 
a  little." 

"  Don't  blame  her  too  much  —  we  must  do 
everything  we  can.  Since  she  isn't  of  age,  she'll 
have  to  have  a  guardian  appointed.  He  might  do 
something." 

"  I  had  thought  of  that;  I'll  suggest  to  her  to- 
night that  she  let  me  arrange  for  a  guardian. 
But  if  we  wait  for  a  court  to  take  action,  I'm 
afraid  we'll  be  too  late.  Swain  seems  to  think 
that  the  danger  is  very  pressing." 

"  At  least  we  can  make  one  more  effort,"  said 
Mr.  Royce.  "  I'll  have  my  wife  drive  out  to  see 
her  this  afternoon.  Perhaps  she  can  do  some- 
thing," and  he  went  to  the  'phone  to  make  the 
arrangements. 

I  turned  back  to  my  work,  but  found  myself 
unable  to  take  it  up,  for  my  conscience  told  me 
that  I  ought  to  see  Swain,  make  sure  that  he  was 
comfortable,  and  do  what  I  could  to  relieve  his 
anxiety.  It  was  not  a  pleasant  task,  for  I  should 
have  to  admit  my  failure,  but  at  last  I  put  my 
work  aside,  made  my  way  reluctantly  to  the  Tombs, 
and  asked  to  see  him. 

They  had  given  him  a  well-lighted  cell  on  the 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          247 

upper  tier,  and  some  of  his  own  things  had  been 
brought  in  to  soften  its  bareness,  but  my  first  glance 
at  Swain  told  me  that  he  was  in  a  bad  way. 

"  Is  she  all  right?  "  was  his  first  question,  and 
his  eyes  seemed  to  burn  into  me. 

"  Yes,"  I  answered  a  little  testily,  "  she's  all 
right  —  that  is,  if  you  mean  Miss  Vaughan. 
For  heaven's  sake,  Swain,  be  a  little  sensible. 
What's  the  use  of  working  yourself  up  into  a  state 
like  this!  Did  you  sleep  any  last  night?" 

"  No,"  said  Swain,  after  thinking  a  minute. 
"  No,  I  believe  not." 

"  How  about  breakfast?  " 

"  I  don't  seem  to  remember  about  breakfast," 
he  answered,  after  another  moment's  thought. 

I  stepped  to  the  door,  called  the  guard,  and, 
putting  a  bill  into  his  hand,  asked  him  to  send  up 
the  prison  barber  and  to  have  a  good  meal  sent 
in  in  the  course  of  half  an  hour.  When  the  bar- 
ber arrived,  I  had  him  take  Swain  in  hand,  give 
him  a  shave  and  shampoo  and  general  freshening 
up.  Then  I  saw  that  he  got  into  clean  things; 
and  then  the  breakfast  arrived,  and  I  made  him 
sit  down  and  eat.  He  obeyed  passively,  and  I 
could  see  the  food  did  him  good.  When  he  had 
finished  his  coffee,  I  handed  him  a  cigar. 

"  Now,  Swain,"  I  began,  sitting  down  opposite 
him,  "  I'm  going  to  talk  to  you  seriously.  In  the 


248          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

first  place,  Miss  Vaughan  is  in  no  danger.  Sim- 
monds  had  two  men  in  the  grounds  watching  the 
house  all  last  night,  ready  to  interfere  at  the  least 
sign  of  anything  wrong.  That  watch  will  be 
kept  up  as  long  as  Miss  Vaughan  remains  there." 

"  That's  good,"  he  said.  "  I  didn't  know  that. 
But  just  the  same,  she  mustn't  remain  there. 
Even  with  the  men  on  guard,  you  may  be  too 
late." 

'Just  what  is  it  you're  afraid  of?"  I  asked 
him,  curiously.  "  Do  you  think  her  life's  in 
danger?  " 

"  Worse  than  that !  "  said  Swain  thickly,  his 
face  suddenly  livid.  "  Oh,  worse  than  that!  " 

I  confess  that  I  caught  something  of  his  horror; 
but  I  shook  myself  impatiently. 

"  I  can't  believe  that,"  I  said.  "  But,  in  any 
case,  our  men  will  be  at  hand.  At  the  least  out- 
cry, they  will  burst  into  the  house.  And  remem- 
ber, the  three  servants  are  there." 

"  They  cut  no  figure.  If  they  didn't  hear  those 
screams  the  other  night,  do  you  think  they  would 
hear  any  others?  You  must  get  her  away  from 
there,  Mr.  Lester,"  he  went  on  rapidly.  "  If  she 
won't  come  of  her  own  accord,  you  must  use 
force." 

"  But,  my  dear  Swain,"  I  objected,  "  I  can't 
do  that  Do  you  want  me  to  kidnap  her?" 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          249 

"  Just  that  —  if  it's  necessary." 

"  Then  I'd  soon  be  occupying  a  cell  here,  too. 
I  don't  see  what  good  that  would  do." 

"  It  would  save  her,"  he  asserted,  doggedly. 
"  It  would  save  her.  That's  the  only  thing  to  con- 
sider." 

But  I  rose  to  my  feet  in  sudden  impatience; 
what  consideration  was  she  showing  for  him  or  for 
me  or  for  anyone? 

"You're  talking  foolishly,"  I  said.  "You'd 
much  better  be  thinking  of  your  owa  danger;  it's 
much  more  real  than  hers."  I  had  an  impulse  to 
add  that,  since  she  had  chosen  her  path,  it  was 
folly  to  waste  pity  upon  her,  but  I  managed  to 
check  the  words.  "  Has  any  new  light  on  the 
case  occurred  to  you?  " 

"  No,"  he  answered,  listlessly,  "  I  haven't 
thought  about  it.  When  do  you  see  her  again, 
Mr.  Lester?" 

"  I'm  to  see  her  to-night." 

"Will  you  give  her  a  note  from  me?" 

"  Yes,"  I  agreed. 

His  face  lighted  again  at  that,  and  he  cleared 
a  corner  of  his  table  and  sat  down  to  write  the 
note.  It  was  evidently  difficult  to  compose,  for  he 
tore  up  two  drafts  before  he  got  one  to  suit  him. 
But  at  last  it  was  done,  and  he  folded  it,  rum- 
maged an  envelope  out  of  a  pile  of  papers  on  a 


250          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

chair,  slipped  the  note  into  it,  and  handed  it  to 
me. 

'  There,"  he  said,  and  his  face  was  bright  with 
hope.     "  I  think  that  will  settle  it." 

I  was  far  from  sharing  his  certainty,  but  I  put 
the  envelope  in  my  pocket,  assured  myself  that 
there  was  nothing  more  I  could  do  for  him,  and 
returned  to  the  office.  Just  as  I  was  getting  ready 
to  leave,  Mr.  Royce  came  in,  a  chagrined  look 
on  his  face. 

"  Mrs.  Royce  just  telephoned  me,"  he  said. 
"  She  drove  out  there,  as  I  asked  her  to,  but 
Miss  Vaughan  refused  to  see  her." 

I  had  expected  it,  but  the  certainty  that  we  had 
failed  again  did  not  add  to  my  cheerfulness. 

"  Swain  wants  us  to  kidnap  her,"  I  said,  with 
a  twisted  smile. 

"  I'm  not  sure  but  that  he's  right,"  said  my 
partner,  and  went  thoughtfully  away. 

I  went  to  my  rooms,  changed,  had  dinner  at  a 
quiet  restaurant,  and  then  took  the  elevated  for 
the  long  trip  to  the  Bronx.  It  was  after  eight 
o'clock  when  I  pulled  the  bell  beside  the  tall  gates 
to  Elmhurst.  The  gardener  was  evidently  ex- 
pecting me,  for  he  appeared  almost  at  once  and 
admitted  me.  Without  waiting  for  him,  I 
walked  up  the  drive  toward  the  house.  The 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          251 

lights  were  on  in  the  library,  and  I  stepped  up  to 
the  open  door. 

Then  I  stopped,  and  my  heart  fell.  For  there 
were  two  white-robed  figures  in  the  room.  One 
was  Miss  Vaughan  and  the  other  was  Francisco 
Silva.  The  girl  was  sitting  at  his  feet. 

They  had  evidently  heard  my  footsteps,  for 
they  were  looking  toward  the  door,  and  Miss 
Vaughan  arose  as  soon  as  I  came  within  the  circle 
of  light.  But  if  I  expected  her  to  show  any  em- 
barrassment, I  was  disappointed. 

"  Come  in,  Mr.  Lester,"  she  said.  "  I  believe 
you  have  not  met  Senor  Silva." 

The  yogi  had  risen,  and  now  he  bowed  to  me. 

"  Our  encounters  heretofore  have  been  purely 
formal,"  he  said,  smiling.  "  I  am  happy  to  meet 
you,  Mr.  Lester." 

His  manner  was  friendly  and  unaffected,  and 
imperceptibly  some  of  my  distrust  of  him  slipped 
away. 

"  I  have  told  Senor  Silva,"  Miss  Vaughan  con- 
tinued, when  we  were  seated,  "  that  you  have  con- 
sented to  act  as  my  man  of  business." 

"  And  it  is  my  intention,"  broke  in  Silva,  "  to 
beseech  Mr.  Lester  to  consent  to  act  as  my  man 
of  business  also.  I  am  sure  that  I  shall  need 


252          THE   GLOVED   HAND 

I  was  not  at  all  sure  of  it,  for  he  seemed  capable 
of  dealing  with  any  situation. 

"  It  would  not  be  possible  for  me  to  represent 
divergent  interests,"  I  pointed  out. 

"  My  dear  sir,"  protested  the  yogi,  "  there  will 
be  no  divergent  interests.  Suppose  we  put  it  in 
this  way:  you  will  represent  Miss  Vaughan,  and 
will  dispose  of  my  interests  from  that  standpoint. 
There  could  be  no  objection  to  that,  I  suppose?  " 

"  No,"  I  answered,  slowly;  "  but  before  we  go 
into  that,  let  me  understand  exactly  what  these 
interests  are.  Mr.  Vaughan's  estate  I  under- 
stand, is  a  large  one." 

Silva  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  I  have  understood  so,"  he  said,  "  but  I  know 
nothing  about  it,  beyond  what  Mr.  Vaughan  him- 
self told  me." 

"What  was  that?" 

"  That  it  was  his  intention  to  give  this  place  as 
a  monastery  for  the  study  of  our  religion,  and  to 
endow  it." 

"  Did  he  mention  the  amount  of  the  endow- 
ment? " 

"  He  asked  me,  not  long  ago,  if  a  million  dol- 
lars would  be  sufficient." 

"  Had  he  drawn  up  a  deed  of  gift?  " 

"  I  do  not  know." 

"Or  made  a  will?" 


THE   GLOVED   HAND          253 

Again  Silva  shrugged  indifferently  to  indicate 
that  he  was  also  ignorant  on  that  point,  and  I 
turned  to  Miss  Vaughan. 

"  If  there  is  a  will,."  I  asked,  "  where  would  it 
probably  be?  " 

1  There  is  a  safe  Eere,"  she  said,  "  in  which  my 
father  kept  his  papers  of  value,"  and  she  went  to 
the  wall  and  swung  out  a  hinged  section  of  shelv- 
ing. The  door  of  a  safe  appeared  behind  it 

I  approached  and  looked  at  it,  then  tried  the 
door,  but  it  was  locked. 

"  To  open  this,  we  must  know  the  combination," 
I  said;  "  or  else  we  shall  have  to  get  an  expert." 

"I  know  the  combination,"  she  broke  in;  "it 
is  " 

J5          .          •          . 

But  I  stopped  her. 

"  My  dear  Miss  Vaughan,"  I  laughed,  "  one 
doesn't  go  around  proclaiming  the  combination  of 
a  safe.  How  do  you  happen  to  know  it?  " 

"  My  father  often  had  me  open  the  safe  for 
him." 

"  Does  anyone  else  know  it?  " 

"  I  do  not  think  so." 

"  Well,  suppose  we  see  what  is  in  the  safe,"  I 
suggested,  and,  as  she  knelt  before  it,  turned 
away.  I,  at  least,  did  not  wish  to  know  the  com- 
bination. That  Silva  already  knew  it  I  accepted 
as  certain. 


254          THE   GLOVED    HAND 

I  heard  the  twirling  of  the  knob,  and  a  sharp 
click  as  the  bolts  were  thrown  back.  Then  I 
walked  to  Miss  Vaughan's  side  and  knelt  beside 
her.  The  interior  of  the  safe  was  divided  into 
the  usual  compartments,  one  of  them  equipped 
with  a  Yale  lock.  The  key  was  in  the  lock,  and 
I  turned  it,  swung  the  little  door  open,  and  drew 
out  the  drawer  which  lay  behind  it. 

"  If  there  is  a  will,  it  is  probably  here,"  I  said; 
"  let  us  see,"  and  I  carried  the  drawer  over  to  the 
light. 

Miss  Vaughan  followed  me,  but  Silva  had  sunk 
back  into  his  chair,  and  was  staring  abstractedly 
through  the  open  door  out  into  the  darkness,  as 
though  our  proceedings  interested  him  not  at  all. 
Then,  as  I  looked  into  the  drawer,  I  gave  a  little 
gasp  of  astonishment,  for  it  was  almost  filled  with 
packets  of  bills.  There  were  five  of  them,  neatly 
sealed  in  wrappers  of  the  National  City  Bank, 
and  each  endorsed  to  contain  ten  thousand  dol- 
lars. 

"  Why  did  your  father  require  all  this  money?  " 
I  asked,  but  Miss  Vaughan  shook  her  head. 

"  He  always  kept  money  there,"  she  said, 
"  though  I  never  knew  the  amount." 

I  glanced  at  the  yogi,  but  his  revery  remained 
unbroken.  Then  I  laid  the  packets  on  the  table 
and  dipped  deeper  into  the  drawer.  There  were 


THE   GLOVED   HAND          255 

two  bank-books,  some  memoranda  of  securities,  a 
small  cash-book,  and,  at  the  very  bottom,  an  un- 
sealed envelope  endorsed,  "  Last  will  and  testa- 
ment of  Worthington  Vaughan." 

"  Here  we  are,"  I  said,  took  it  out, .  and  re- 
placed the  rest  of  the  contents.  "  Shall  we  read 
it  now?  " 

'  Yes,  I  should  like  to  read  it,"  she  answered 
quietly. 

The  document  was  a  short  one.  It  had  evi- 
dently been  drawn  by  Vaughan  himself,  for  it  was 
written  simply  and  without  legal  phrases.  It  had 
been  witnessed  by  Henry  and  Katherine  Schneider, 
and  was  dated  only  a  week  previously  —  but  three 
days  before  the  murder. 

"Who  are  these  witnesses?"  I  asked. 
"  They  are  the  cook  and  the  gardener." 
"  Do  you  recognise  your  father's  writing?  " 
"  Oh,  yes;  there  can  be  no  question  as  to  that.'1 
It  was  a  peculiar  writing,  and  a  very  character- 
istic one;  not  easy  to  read  until  one  grew  accus- 
tomed to  it.     But  at  the  end  of  a  few  minutes  I 
had  mastered  it.     The  provisions  of  the  will  were 
simple :  Elmhurst  and  the  sum  of  one  million  dol- 
lars in  negotiable   securities  were  left  absolutely 
to  "  my  dear  and  revered  Master,  Francisco  Silva, 
Priest  of  the  Third  Circle  of  Siva,  and  Yogi  of 
the  Ninth  Degree,  to  whom  I  owe  my  soul's  sal- 


256          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

vation,"  the  bequest  to  be  used  for  the  purpose 
of  founding  a  monastery  for  the  study  of  the  doc- 
trines of  Saivaism,  and  as  an  asylum  for  all  true 
believers.  The  remainder  of  his  estate  was  left 
absolutely  to  his  daughter,  to  dispose  of  as  she 
saw  fit.  "  It  is,  however,  my  earnest  wish,"  the 
will  concluded,  "  that  my  daughter  Marjorie 
should  enter  upon  the  Way,  and  accept  the  high 
destiny  which  the  Master  offers  her  as  a  Priestess 
of  our  Great  Lord.  May  the  All-Seeing  One 
guide  her  steps  aright !  " 

There  was  a  moment's  silence  as  I  finished;  then 
I  glanced  at  Miss  Vaughan.  Her  eyes  were  fixed; 
her  face  was  rapt  and  shining. 

She  felt  my  gaze  upon  her,  and  turned  to  face 
me. 

"  As  your  attorney,  Miss  Vaughan,"  I  said,  "  it 
is  my  duty  to  advise  you  that  this  will  would  prob- 
ably not  hold  in  law.  I  think  it  would  be  com- 
paratively easy  to  convince  any  court  that  your 
father  was  not  of  sound  mind  when  he  drew  it. 
You  see,  Senor  Silva,"  I  added,  "  that  there  is 
at  once  a  conflict  of  interests." 

But  Silva  shook  his  head  with  a  little  smile. 

"  There  is  no  conflict,"  he  said.  "  If  Miss 
Vaughan  does  not  approve  her  father's  wishes, 
they  are  as  though  they  were  not!  " 

11 1  do  approve  them !  "  the  girl  cried  passion- 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          257 

ately,  her  hands  against  her  heart.  "  I  do  approve 
them !  " 

"All  of  them?  "I  asked. 

She  swung  full  upon  me,  her  eyes  aflame. 

"  Yes,  all  of  them  1  "  she  cried.  "  Oh,  Master, 
receive  me !  "  and  she  flung  herself  on  her  knees 
by  Silva's  chair. 


CHAPTER   XXI 

THE   VISION   IN   THE    CRYSTAL 

SILVA  laid  a  hand  tenderly  upon  the  bowed  head, 
as  though  in  benediction,  but  I  could  have  sworn 
there  was  unholy  triumph  in  his  eyes.  I  caught 
but  a  glimpse  of  it,  for  he  veiled  them  instantly  and 
bowed  his  head,  and  his  lips  moved  as  if  in  prayer. 
The  kneeling  figure  was  quivering  with  sobs;  I 
could  hear  them  in  her  throat;  and  my  heart  turned 
sick  as  I  saw  how  she  permitted  his  caressing 
touch.  Then,  suddenly,  she  sprang  erect,  and, 
without  a  glance  at  me,  hurried  from  the  room. 

There  was  silence  for  a  moment,  then  Silva 
arose  and  faced  me. 

"  You  see  how  it  is,  Mr.  Lester,"  he  said. 

"  Yes,"  I  answered  drily,  "  I  see  how  it  is." 

I  refolded  the  will,  slipped  it  back  into  its  en- 
velope, restored  it  to  the  drawer,  made  sure  that 
all  the  packets  were  there,  too,  replaced  the  drawer 
in  the  safe,  closed  the  door,  twirled  the  knob,  swung 
the  shelves  into  place  in  front  of  it,  and  finally, 
my  self-control  partially  regained,  turned  back  to 
Silva. 

"  Well,"  I  said,  and  my  voice  sounded  very 
flat,  "  let  us  sit  down  and  talk  it  over." 

258 


THE   GLOVED    HAND          259 

He  wheeled  his  chair  around  to  face  me  and 
sat  down.  I  looked  at  him  in  silence  for  a  mo- 
ment. The  man  was  virile,  dominant;  there  was 
in  his  aspect  something  impressive  and  compel- 
ling. Small  wonder  this  child  of  nineteen  had 
found  herself  unable  to  stand  against  him ! 

"  I  know  what  is  in  your  mind,"  he  said,  at  last. 
"  But,  after  all,  it  was  her  father's  wish.  That 
should  weigh  with  you." 

"  Her  father  was  mad." 

"  I  deny  it.  He  was  very  sane.  He  found 
the  Way,  and  he  has  set  her  feet  upon  it." 

"What  way?"  I  demanded.  "Where  does 
it  lead?" 

"  The  Way  of  life.  It  leads  to  peace  and  hap- 
piness." 

He  uttered  the  words  as  with  finality;  but  I 
shrugged  them  impatiently  away. 

"  Don't  float  off  into  your  mysticism,"  I  said. 
"  Let  us  keep  our  feet  on  the  earth.  You  may 
be  sincere,  or  you  may  not  —  it  is  impossible  for 
me  to  say.  But  I  know  this  —  it  is  not  fair  to 
that  child  to  take  her  at  her  word.  She  doesn't 
realise  what  she  is  doing.  I  don't  know  what  it 
is  you  plan  for  her,  but  before  you  do  anything, 
she  must  have  a  chance  to  find  herself.  She  must 
be  taken  out  of  this  atmosphere  into  a  healthier 
one,  until  she  has  rallied  from  the  shock  of  her 


260          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

father's  death,  and  emerged  from  the  shadow  of 
his  influence.  She  must  have  time  to  get  back 
her  self-control.  Then,  if  she  chooses  to  return, 
well  and  good." 

"  To  all  your  '  musts,'  Mr.  Lester,"  retorted 
Silva,  "  I  can  only  say  that  I  am  willing.  I  have 
not  lifted  a  finger  to  detain  her.  But  what  if  she 
will  not  go  ?  " 

'  Then  she  must  be  made  to  go." 

"  Another  *  must '  !  "  he  rejoined  lightly.  "  I 
would  remind  you  that  she  is  mistress  of  her  own 
actions.  Neither  you  nor  I  can  compel  her  to  do 
anything  she  does  not  wish  to  do.  It  has  been 
a  greet  happiness  to  me  that  she  has  chosen  as 
she  has;  it  would  have  been  a  great  sorrow  to 
me  had  she  decided  differently.  But  I  should 
have  acquiesced.  Now  it  is  for  you  to  acquiesce. 
After  all,  what  claim  have  you  upon  her?  " 

"  I  admit  that  I  have  no  claim,"  I  said,  more 
calmly.  "  But  there  is  one  who  has  a  claim,  and 
to  whom  she  is  bound  to  listen." 

'  You  refer,  no  doubt,  to  that  misguided  young 
man  who  is  now  in  prison." 

"  I  refer  to  Frederic  Swain,  yes,"  I  retorted 
hotly.  "  It  is  true  he  is  in  prison.  And  how  did 
he  get  there?  By  coming  when  she  called  him; 
by  trying  to  assist  her." 

"  Was    it   assisting   her   to   kill   her   father? " 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          261 

queried  Silva,  and  his  lips  were  curled  with  scorn. 

I  paused  a  moment  to  make  sure  of  my  self- 
control,  for  it  seemed  to  be  slipping  from  me. 

"  Senor  Silva,"  I  said,  at  last,  "  how  her  father 
came  to  his  death  I  do  not  know;  but  I  do  know 
that  Swain  had  no  hand  in  it." 

'  Yet  he  is  in  prison,"  he  reminded  me. 

"  Innocent  men  have  been  in  prison  before  this. 
I  will  get  him  out." 

"  By  what  means?  " 

"  By  finding  the  real  murderer !  "  I  said,  and 
looked  at  him  with  eyes  which  I  know  were  blood- 
shot. 

He  returned  my  gaze  steadily. 

"  So  you  think  I  am  the  murderer?  "  he  asked, 
quietly. 

I  got  a  grip  of  myself  —  I  saw  that  I  had  gone 
too  far. 

"  I  do  not  know  what  to  think,"  I  answered. 
"  I  am  seeking  light.  In  any  event,  Swain 
merits  some  consideration.  Miss  Vaughan  should, 
at  least,  listen  to  what  he  has  to  say.  She  prom- 
ised to  marry  him." 

"  She  has  withdrawn  that  promise." 

"  She  has  never  said  so." 

"  She  has  withdrawn  it  in  choosing  as  she  has 
chosen.  They  who  serve  in  the  temple  of  Siva 
turn  their  backs  on  marriage." 


262          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

I  put  the  words  away  from  me  with  a  gesture. 

"  That  means  nothing  to  me,"  I  said.  "  I 
know  nothing  of  the  temple  of  Siva.  I  wish  to 
know  nothing,  for  mysticism  repels  me.  But  I 
do  know  that  she  gave  her  word ;  I  do  know  that  she 
loved  him." 

"  Earthly  love  fades  and  passes,"  said  the  yogi, 
solemnly.  "  She  has  given  her  heart  to  the 
Master,"  and  he  made  his  gesture  of  reverence. 

There  was  anger  in  my  eyes  as  I  looked  at  him. 
How  was  one  to  reply  to  such  jargon? 

"  I  would  point  out  to  you,  Senor  Silva,"  I 
said,  "  that  Miss  Vaughan  is  not  yet  of  legal  age, 
and  so  not  quite  her  own  mistress." 

"  Does  your  law  interfere  in  matters  of  the 
heart?"  he  inquired  blandly;  "or  in  matters  of 
religion?  " 

"No,"  I  said,  flushing  at  his  irony;  "but  the 
law  demands  that,  until  she  is  of  age,  she  have 
a  guardian  to  protect  her  interests.  I  shall  ask 
that  one  be  appointed  at  once." 

"  To  that,"  said  the  yogi,  mildly,  "  I  have  not 
the  least  objection.  In  fact,  Mr.  Lester,  I  do  not 
know  why  you  should  tell  me  your  plans.  But, 
for  some  reason,  you  seem  to  regard  me  as  an  ad- 
versary. I  am  not  —  I  am  no  man's  adversary. 
I  object  to  nothing;  I  have  no  right  to  object  to 
anything.  I  am  simply  Miss  Vaughan's  friend  and 


THE   GLOVED    HAND  263 

well-wisher,  and  seek  her  happiness.  I  should 
like  to  be  your  friend  also." 

"And  Swain's?"  I  queried,   a  little  brutally. 

"  The  friend  of  all  men,"  said  the  yogi, 
simply.  "  They  are  all  my  brothers.  We  are 
children  of  the  same  Great  Spirit." 

I  was  silent  for  a  moment.  Then  I  took 
Swain's  letter  from  my  pocket. 

"  If  you  are  sincere,"  I  said,  "  you  can  easily 
prove  it.  I  have  a  letter  here  from  Swain.  He 
gave  it  to  me  to-day,  and  I  promised  to  give  it  to 
Miss  Vaughan  to-night." 

Without  a  word,  he  crossed  to  the  bell  and  rang 
it.  The  maid  answered. 

"  Mr.  Lester  has  a  letter  which  you  will  give 
to  your  mistress,"  he  said. 

"  And  you  will  wait  for  an  answer,"  I  added. 

The  girl  took  the  letter  and  went  away.  Silva 
sat  down  again,  and  when  I  glanced  at  him,  I  saw 
that  his  eyes  were  closed.  Five  minutes  passed, 
and  the  girl  appeared  again  at  the  door. 

"  Miss  Vaughan  says  there  is  no  answer,  sir," 
she  said,  and  let  the  curtain  fall  into  place  again. 

I  made  a  gesture  of  despair;  I  felt  that  the  game 
was  lost. 

"After  all,  Mr.  Lester,"  said  Silva,  kindly, 
"  what  is  this  fate  that  you  would  prepare  for  her? 
You  seek  her  marriage  with  a  young  man  who, 


264          THE   GLOVED    HAND 

when  I  saw  him,  appeared  to  me  merely  common- 
place. Admitting  for  the  moment  that  he  is  in- 
nocent of  this  crime,  you  would  nevertheless  con- 
demn her  to  an  existence  flat  and  savourless,  dif- 
fering in  no  essential  from  that  of  the  beasts  of 
the  field." 

u  It  is  the  existence  of  all  normal  people,"  I 
pointed  out,  "  and  the  one  which  they  are  hap- 
piest in." 

"  But  Miss  Vaughan  would  not  be  happy.  She 
has  too  great  a  soul ;  that  young  man  is  not  worthy 
of  her.  You  yourself  have  felt  it !  " 

I  could  not  deny  it. 

"  Few  men  are  worthy  of  a  good  woman,"  I 
said  lamely. 

"  Faugh!  Good  woman!  "  and  he  snapped  his 
fingers.  "  I  abhor  the  words!  They  are  simply 
cant!  But  a  great  woman,  a  woman  of  insight, 
of  imagination  —  ah,  for  such  a  woman  the  Way 
that  I  prepare  is  the  only  Way.  There  she  will 
find  joy  and  inspiration;  there  she  will  grow  in 
knowledge;  there  she  will  breathe  the  breath  of 
life!  Mr.  Lester,"  and  he  leaned  forward  sud- 
denly, "  have  you  the  courage  to  consult  the 
sphere?  " 

;<  What  do  you  mean?" 

'  You  saw  how  I  spent  the  White  Night  of 
Siva,"  and  he  made  his  gesture  of  reverence. 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          265 

'Will  you  gaze  for  an  hour  on  the  crystal?" 

"  For  what  purpose?  " 

"  I  do  not  know  what  may  be  revealed  to  you," 
he  answered.  "  That  is  in  the  keeping  of  the 
Holy  One.  Perhaps  nothing;  perhaps  much. 
Will  you  make  the  trial?  " 

His  eyes  were  distended  with  excitement,  his 
lips  were  trembling  with  eagerness. 

"  I  feel  that  it  will  not  be  in  vain!  "  he  added. 

There  was  something  compelling  in  his  gaze. 
After  all,  why  not?  I  struggled  to  my  feet. 

With  a  strange  smile,  he  held  back  the  curtain, 
and  I  passed  before  him  into  the  hall  and  up  the 
stairs.  As  I  hesitated  at  the  top,  he  opened  the 
door  into  the  entry,  and  again  my  senses  were  as- 
saulted by  a  heavy,  numbing  odour.  In  the  middle 
of  the  room  the  crystal  sphere  glowed  softly. 

"Take  your  place  upon  the  couch,"  he  said; 
"  sit  thus,  with  your  legs  crossed,  and  your  hands 
folded  before  you.  But  first,  listen  to  me.  There 
is  in  this  no  magic;  this  sphere  is  merely  a 
shell  of  crystal,  in  which  a  small  lamp  burns. 
It  serves  only  to  concentrate  the  mind,  to  enable 
it  to  forget  the  world  and  to  turn  in  upon  itself. 
The  visions  which  will  come  to  you,  if  any  come, 
will  come  from  within  and  not  from  without. 
They  will  be  such  visions  as  the  Holy  One  may  will ; 
and  by  the  Holy  One  I  mean  that  Spirit  which 


266          THE    GLOVED   HAND 

pervades  the  universe,  even  to  its  farthest  bound; 
the  Spirit  which  is  in  all  of  us  alike;  the  Spirit 
which  is  in  good  men  and  in  bad,  men  like  you 
and  me,  and  men  like  the  one  who  slew  my  pupil. 
It  is  with  this  Spirit,  if  the  Holy  One  so  wills,  that 
you  will  commune,  so  that  you  will  see  no  longer 
with  the  poor  eyes  of  the  body,  but  with  eyes  from 
which  nothing  is  concealed,  either  in  the  past  or  in 
the  future.  Do  you  understand?  " 

"  I  think  so,"  I  murmured,  unable  to  take  my 
eyes  from  the  glowing  circle. 

"Then  to  the  Holy  One  I  commend  thee!" 
said  the  yogi,  and  sat  down  on  the  couch  opposite 
me. 

I  felt  that  his  eyes  were  upon  me,  but  mine 
were  upon  the  sphere,  and  in  a  moment  I  was  no 
longer  aware  of  him.  I  was  aware  only  of  the 
glowing  circle,  which  seemed  to  widen  and  widen 
until  the  whole  universe  revolved  within  it.  The 
sun  and  the  moon  and  the  stars  were  there,  and 
I  gazed  at  them  as  from  a  great  distance.  I  saw 
stars  glow  and  fade;  I  saw  great  nebulae  con- 
dense to  points  of  light,  and  disintegrate  to  dust; 
th  .-•  .owly,  slowly,  a  single  planet  swung  into 
viev  ,  a  million  miles  away,  at  first,  but  growing 
clearer  and  more  clear,  until  I  was  looking  down 
upon  its  seas  and  continents;  and  suddenly,  as  it 
turned  before  me,  I  recognised  the  earth. 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          267 

Europe,  Asia,  the  broad  Pacific  swung  below  me; 
then  land  again  —  America !  I  saw  great  moun- 
tains, broad  plains,  and  mighty  rivers. 

The  motion  ceased.  I  was  gazing  down  upon 
a  great  city,  built  upon  a  narrow  spur  of  land 
between  two  rivers,  a  city  of  towering  buildings 
and  busy  streets;  then  upon  a  single  house,  set 
in  the  midst  of  lofty  elms;  then  I  was  in  a  room, 
a  room  with  books  against  the  walls,  and  a  door 
opening  upon  a  garden.  From  the  garden  the 
light  faded,  and  the  darkness  came,  and  a  clock 
somewhere  struck  twelve.  Then,  suddenly,  at  the 
door  appeared  two  white-robed  figures,  an  old  man 
and  a  girl.  The  man  was  talking  violently,  but  the 
girl  crossed  the  room  without  a  backward  glance, 
and  passed  through  a  door  on  its  farther  side. 
The  man  stood  for  a  moment  looking  after  her, 
then  flung  himself  into  a  chair,  and  put  his  hands 
before  his  face. 

With  creeping  flesh,  I  looked  again  at  the  outer 
door,  waiting  who  would  enter.  And  slowly, 
slowly,  the  drapery  was  put  aside,  and  a  face 
peered  in.  I  could  see  its  flashing  eyes  and  work- 
ing mouth.  A  hand,  in  which  a  knife  gler  *d, 
was  raised  cautiously  to  the  cord,  and  when  it*was 
lowered,  it  held  a  piece  of  the  cord  within  its 
grasp.  I  could  see  the  eager  fingers  fashioning 
a  knot;  then,  with  head  bent,  the  figure  crept  for- 


268          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

ward,  foot  by  foot;  it  was  at  the  chair-back,  and 
even  as  the  old  man,  conscious  at  last  of  the  in- 
truder, raised  his  head,  the  cord  was  cast  about 
his  throat  and  drawn  tight.  There  was  a  mo- 
ment's struggle,  and  I  saw  that  the  hand  which 
held  the  cord  was  red  with  blood.  From  the 
wrist,  a  stained  handkerchief  fell  softly  to  the 
floor. 

And  then  the  assassin  turned  to  steal  away;  but 
as  he  went,  he  cast  one  awful  glance  over  his 
shoulder.  The  light  fell  full  upon  his  face  — 
and  I  saw  that  it  was  Swain's ! 

I  opened  my  eyes  to  find  myself  extended  full 
length  on  the  divan,  with  Silva  standing  over  me, 
a  tiny  glass  of  yellow  liquid  in  his  hand. 

"  Drink  this,"  he  said,  and  I  swallowed  it  obedU 
ently. 

It  had  a  pungent,  unpleasant  taste,  but  I  could 
feel  it  running  through  my  veins,  and  it  cleared 
my  mind  and  steadied  my  nerves  as  though  by 
magic.  I  sat  up  and  looked  at  the  crystal.  The 
othe/  lights  in  the  room  had  been  switched  on,  and 
the  sphere  lay  cold  and  lifeless.  I  passed  my  hand 
before  my  eyes,  and  looked  at  it  again;  then  my 
eyes  sought  Silva's.  He  was  smiling  softly. 

"  The  visions  came,"  he  said.  '  Your  eyes  tell 
me  that  the  visions  came.  Is  it  not  so?" 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          269 

'Yes,"   I   answered;   "  strange   visions,   Senor 
Silva.     I  wish  I  knew  their  origin." 

'  Their  origin  is  in  the  Universal  Spirit,"  he 
said,  quietly.     "  Even  yet  you  do  not  believe." 

"  No,"    and    I    looked    again    at   the    crystal. 
'  There  are  some  things  past  belief." 

"  Nothing  is  past  belief,"  he  said,  still  more 
quietly*  "  You  think  so  because  your  mind  is 
wrapped  in  the  conventions  amid  which  you  exist. 
Free  it  from  those  wrappings,  and  you  will  begin 
really  to  live.  You  have  never  known  what  life 
is." 

"  How  am  I  to  free  it,  Senor  Silva?  "  I  ques- 
tioned. 

He  took  a  step  nearer  to  me. 

"  By  becoming  a  disciple  of  the  Holy  One,"  he 
said,  most  earnestly. 

But  I  was  myself  again,  and  I  rose  to  my  feet 
and  shook  my  head,  with  a  smile. 

"  No,"  I  said.  "  You  will  get  no  convert  here. 
I  must  be  going." 

"  I  will  open  the  gate  for  you,"  he  said,  in  an- 
other tone,  and  led  the  way  down  the  stairs, 
through  the  library,  and  out  upon  the  gravelled 
walk. 

After  the  drugged  atmosphere  of  his  room,  the 
pure  night  air  was  like  a  refreshing  bath,  and  I 
drew  in  long  breaths  of  it.  Silva  walked  beside 


270          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

me  silently;  he  unlocked  the  gate  with  a  key  which 
he  carried  in  his  hand,  and  pulled  it  open. 

"Good-night,  Mr.  Lester,"  he  said.  "The 
sphere  is  at  your  service  should  you  desire  again 
to  test  it.  Think  over  what  I  have  said  to  you." 

"  Good-night,"  I  answered,  and  stepped  through 
into  the  road. 

The  gate  swung  shut  and  the  key  grated  in  the 
lock.  Mechanically  I  turned  my  steps  toward 
Godfrey's  house;  but  I  seemed  to  be  bending  under 
a  great  burden  —  the  burden  of  the  vision. 


CHAPTER    XXII 

THE    SUMMONS 

I  WAS  confused  and  shaken;  I  had  no  idea  of  the 
hour;  I  did  not  know  whether  that  vision  had 
lasted  a  minute  or  a  thousand  years.  But  when  I 
blundered  up  the  path  to  Godfrey's  house,  I  found 
him  and  Simmonds  sitting  on  the  porch  together. 

"  I  had  Godfrey  bring  me  out,"  said  Simmonds, 
as  he  shook  hands,  "  because  I  wanted  another 
look  at  those  midnight  fireworks.  Did  you  come 
up  on  the  elevated?  " 

'Yes,"  I  answered;  and  I  felt  Godfrey  turn 
suddenly  in  his  chair,  at  the  sound  of  my  voice, 
and  scrutinise  my  face.  "  I  had  dinner  in  town 
and  came  up  afterwards." 

"  What  time  was  that? "  asked  Godfrey, 
quietly. 

"  I  got  up  here  about  eight  o'clock.  I  had  an 
engagement  with  Miss  Vaughan." 

"  You  have  been  with  her  since?  " 

;<  With  her  and  Silva,"  and  I  dropped  into  a 
chair  and  mopped  my  face  with  my  handkerchief. 
'  The  experience  was  almost  too  much  for  me," 
I  added,  and  told  them  all  that  had  occurred. 

271 


272          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

They  listened,  Godfrey  motionless  and  intent, 
and  Simmonds  with  a  murmur  of  astonishment 
now  and  then. 

"  I'm  bound  to  confess,"  I  concluded,  "  that 
my  respect  for  Silva  has  increased  immensely. 
He's  impressive;  he's  consistent;  I  almost  believe 
he's  sincere." 

"  Have  you  considered  what  that  belief  im- 
plies? "  asked  Godfrey. 

"  What  does  it  imply?  " 

"  If  Silva  is  sincere,"  said  Godfrey,  slowly;  "  if 
he  is  really  what  he  pretends  to  be,  a  mystic,  a 
priest  of  Siva,  intent  only  on  making  converts  to 
what  he  believes  to  be  the  true  religion,  then  our 
whole  theory  falls  to  the  ground,  and  Swain  is 
guilty  of  murder." 

I  shivered  a  little,  but  I  saw  that  Godfrey  was 
right. 

;'  We  are  in  this  dilemma,"  Godfrey  continued, 
"  either  Silva  is  a  fakir  and  charlatan,  or  Swain 
is  a  murderer." 

"  I  wish  you  could  have  witnessed  that  horrible 
scene,  as  I  did,"  I  broke  in;  "  it  would  have  shaken 
your  confidence,  too !  I  wish  you  could  have  seen 
his  face  as  he  glanced  back  over  his  shoulder !  It 
was  fiendish,  Godfrey;  positively  fiendish!  It 
made  my  blood  run  cold.  It  makes  it  run  cold 
now,  to  remember  it!  " 


THE   GLOVED    HAND          273 

"  How  do  you  explain  all  that  crystal  sphere 
business,  anyway?"  asked  Simmonds,  who  had 
been  chewing  his  cigar  perplexedly.  "  It  stumps 
me." 

"  Lester  was  hypnotised  and  saw  what  Silva 
willed  him  to  see,"  answered  Godfrey.  "  You'll 
remember  he  sat  facing  him." 

"  But,"  I  objected,  "  no  one  remembers  what 
happens  during  hypnosis." 

"  They  do  if  they  are  willed  to  remember. 
Silva  willed  you  to  remember.  It  was  cleverly 
done,  and  his  explanation  of  the  origin  of  the 
vision  was  clever,  too.  Moreover,  it  had  some 
truth  in  it,  for  the  secret  of  crystal-gazing  is  that 
it  awakens  the  subjective  consciousness,  or  Great 
Spirit,  as  Silva  called  it.  But  you  weren't  crys- 
tal-gazing, to-night,  Lester  —  you  were  simply 
hypnotised." 

"  You  may  be  right,"  I  admitted;  "  I  remember 
how  his  eyes  stared  at  me.  But  it  was  wonderful 
—  I'm  more  impressed  with  him  than  ever." 

"  It  isn't  the  fact  that  he  hypnotised  you  that 
bothers  me,"  said  Godfrey,  after  a  moment. 
"  It's  the  fact  that  he  has  also  hypnotised  Miss 
Vaughan." 

The  words  startled  me. 

"  You  think  that's  the  reason  of  her  be- 
haviour? "  I  asked,  quickly. 


274          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

"What  other  reason  can  there  be?"  Godfrey 
demanded.  "  Here  we  have  a  girl  who  thinks 
herself  in  danger  and  summons  to  her  aid  the  man 
who  loves  her  and  whom,  presumably,  she  loves. 
And  two  days  later,  when  he  has  been  imprisoned 
for  a  crime  of  which  she  declares  it  is  absurd  to 
suspect  him,  instead  of  hastening  to  him  or  trying 
to  carry  out  his  wishes,  she  turns  her  back  on  him 
and  deliberately  walks  into  the  danger  from  which, 
up  to  that  moment,  she  had  shrunk  with  loathing. 
Contrast  her  behaviour  of  Saturday,  when  she  de- 
clared her  faith  in  Swain  and  begged  your  as- 
sistance, with  her  behaviour  of  yesterday  and  to- 
day, when  she  throws  you  and  Swain  aside  and  an- 
nounces that  she  is  going  to  follow  Silva  —  to  be- 
come a  priestess  of  Siva.  Do  you  know  what  that 
means,  Lester  —  to  become  a  priestess  of  Siva?  " 

"  No,"1  I  answered,  slowly;  "  I  don't  know. 
Silva  said  it  was  a  great  destiny;  yes,  and  that  it 
meant  turning  one's  back  on  marriage." 

'  That  is  right,"  said  Godfrey,  in  an  indescrib- 
able tone,  "  there  is  no  marriage  —  there  are  only 
revolting,  abominable,  unspeakable  rites  and  cere- 
monies. I  ran  across  Professor  Sutro,  the  Ori- 
entalist, to-day,  and  had  a  talk  with  him  about 
it.  He  says  the  worship  of  Siva  is  merely  the 
worship  of  the  reproductive  principle,  as  it  runs 
through  all  creation,  and  that  the  details  of  this 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          275 

worship  are  inconceivably  disgusting.  That  is  the 
sort  of  destiny  Miss  Vaughan  has  chosen." 

My  hands  were  clammy  with  the  horror 
of  it. 

"  We  must  save  her!  "  I  said,  hoarsely.  "  Of 
course  she  doesn't  know  —  doesn't  suspect !  We 
must  get  her  away  from  Silva !  " 

"  Undoubtedly  we  must  do  something,"  God- 
frey agreed.  "  I  don't  know  how  we  can  get  her 
away  from  Silva,  but  we  might  get  Silva  away 
from  her.  Couldn't  you  arrest  him  on  suspicion 
and  keep  him  locked  up  for  two  or  three  days, 
Simmonds?  " 

"  I  might,"  Simmonds  grunted. 

"  And  while  he's  away,  you  can  work  with  her, 
Lester;  take  Mrs.  Royce  to  see  her,  give  her  a 
hint  of  what  Saivaism  really  is  —  or  get  Mrs. 
Royce  to.  If  that  doesn't  have  any  effect,  we  can 
try  stronger  measures;  but  I  believe,  if  we  can 
get  her  away  from  Silva's  influence  for  a  few 
days,  she  will  be  all  right  again." 

"  I  hope  so,"  I  agreed,  "  but  I'm  not  at  all 
certain.  She  didn't  behave  like  a  hypnotised  per- 
son, Godfrey;  she  seemed  to  be  acting  of  her  own 
free  will.  I  couldn't  see  that  Silva  was  trying  to 
influence  her  in  any  way.  She  said  she  was  try- 
ing to  carry  out  her  father's  wish.  And  it  cer- 
tainly was  his  wish  —  the  will  proves  that.  If 


276          THE   GLOVED   HAND 

anybody  is  hypnotising  her,  I  should  say  it  was 
he." 

"  Well,  I  can't  arrest  him,"  said  Simmonds, 
with  a  grin. 

"  Her  father's  wishes  may  have  had  some 
weight  with  her  at  the  outset,"  admitted  Godfrey, 
"  but  they  couldn't  have  driven  her  to  the  length 
to  which  she  has  gone.  And  about  the  will.  If 
Vaughan  had  not  been  killed,  if  he  had  been  found 
insane,  the  will  would  have  been  at  once  invali- 
dated. Don't  you  get  the  glimmer  of  a  motive 
for  his  murder  there,  Lester?  " 

"  It  can  be  invalidated  now,  if  Miss  Vaughan 
contests  it,"  I  pointed  out. 

"Yes;  but  unless  she  does  contest  it,  it  will 
stand.  But  if  Vaughan  had  been  declared  in- 
sane, the  will  could  never  have  been  probated  — 
no  contest  would  have  been  necessary.  Do  you 
see  the  difference?  " 

"I  see  what  you  mean;  but  I  don't  think  it 
amounts  to  much.  Silva  declares  that  if  Miss 
Vaughan  contests  the  will,  he  will  not  defend  it." 

"  But  he  knows  perfectly  well  that  she  will  not 
contest  it.  The  surest  way  to  prevent  a  contest  is 
by  adopting  just  such  an  attitude.  Besides,  if 
we  don't  save  her,  he'll  get  her  share,  too. 
Vaughan's  estate  and  Vaughan's  daughter  and 
everything  else  that  was  Vaughan's  will  disappear 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          277 

into  his  maw.  Oh,  he's  playing  for  a  big  stake, 
Lester,  and  it  looks  to  me  as  though  he  were  go- 
ing to  win  it!  " 

It  looked  so  to  me,  too,  and  I  fell  into  gloomy 
thought. 

"  You've  got  your  men  watching  the  house,  I 
suppose?"  I  asked,  at  last,  turning  to  Simmonds. 

"  Yes;  and  we  managed  to  score  one  little  point 
to-day." 

"  What  was  that?" 

"  I  found  out  that  Annie  Crogan,  the  house- 
maid over  there,  had  a  cousin  on  the  force,  so  I 
got  him  out  here  and  he  managed  to  have  a  talk 
with  her.  He  didn't  find  out  anything,"  he  added; 
"  that  is,  anything  we  don't  know;  but  she  prom- 
ised to  leave  the  door  of  her  bedroom  open  at 
night,  and,  if  anything  happened,  to  show  a  light 
at  her  window." 

"Splendid!"  I  said.  "And  of  course  she'll 
keep  her  eyes  open  in  the  daytime." 

"  Sure  she  will.  She's  a  bright  girl.  The  only 
thing  I'm  afraid  of  is  that  the  Hindu  will  get  on 
to  her  and  fire  her.  But  she's  been  warned  to  be 
mighty  careful.  If  they  don't  suspect  her,  maybe 
she'll  have  something  to  tell  us,  in  a  day  or 
two." 

"  Perhaps  she  will,"  I  agreed;  and  I  drew  a 
breath  of  relief.  Surely  with  all  these  guardians, 


278          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

inside  the  house  and  out,  Miss  Vaughan  was  safe. 
The  least  outcry  would  bring  swift  assistance. 
Besides,  I  could  not  bring  myself  to  believe  that 
Silva  was  such  a  brute  as  Godfrey  seemed  to  think 
him.  I  had  been  attracted  by  him,  not  repelled, 
and  I  have  always  believed  in  the  accuracy  of 
these  instinctive  feelings. 

And  Godfrey  himself,  I  reflected,  did  not  seem 
to  be  very  clear  in  the  matter.  If  Silva  was 
merely  a  fakir  and  a  charlatan,  there  was  no 
reason  why  he  should  wish  to  induct  Miss  Vaughan 
into  the  mysteries  of  a  religion  which  he  wore  only 
as  a  cloak,  to  be  dropped  as  soon  as  his  plans  were 
accomplished.  On  the  other  hand,  if  he  was  sin- 
cere and  really  wished  to  convert  the  girl,  it  was 
only  reasonable  to  suppose  that  he  was  sincere  in 
other  things  as  well. 

"  It  reduces  itself  to  this,"  I  said  finally  to  God- 
frey. "  If  Silva  is  a  charlatan,  there  is  no  reason 
why  he  should  hypnotise  Miss  Vaughan;  but  if  he 
really  wishes  to  make  a  priestess  of  her,  then,  by 
the  same  token,  he  is  sincere  and  not  a  charlatan 
at  all." 

Godfrey  nodded. 

"  There's  a  twist  there  which  I  can't  seem  to 
get  straight,"  he  admitted.  "  We'll  have  to 
watch  Silva  a  little  longer  to  find  out  what  his 
game  really  is.  Of  course,  it's  just  possible  that 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          279 

he'd  be  glad  to  get  rid  of  the  girl,  but  that  she 
really  is  obsessed  by  the  idea  of  carrying  out  her 
father's  wish.  If  that's  the  case,  Silva  is  rather 
up  a  tree." 

"  That's  where  we'd  better  be  getting,"  broke 
in  Simmonds,  who  had  taken  out  his  watch  and 
held  it  up  to  the  light.  u  It's  nearly  twelve 
o'clock,  and  I  don't  want  to  miss  the  fireworks. 
Besides,  you  fellows  don't  gain  anything  by  all 
this  jawing.  You've  been  at  it  for  an  hour,  and 
you're  more  tangled  up  now  than  when  you  started. 
My  motto  with  a  case  of  this  kind  is  just  to  sit 
quiet  and  watch  it;  and  pretty  soon  the  rat  thinks 
the  coast  is  clear,  and  pokes  out  his  head,  and  you 
nab  him." 

"  There's  a  good  deal  in  that,"  agreed  Godfrey, 
with  a  little  laugh.  "  I  admit  that  our  arguing 
doesn't  seem  to  lead  anywhere.  Come  along," 
and  he  led  the  way  out  among  the  trees. 

"  Now  take  these  fireworks,"  went  on  Sim- 
monds, in  a  low  tone,  when  we  were  sitting  side 
by  side  on  the  limb.  "  I  don't  understand  what 
they  mean ;  but  they  must  -mean  something.  Am 
I  laying  awake  nights  worrying  about  them  ?  Not 
me !  I'm  just  going  to  keep  on  watching  till  I  find 
out  what  the  meaning  is.  I  know  you're  a  great 
fellow  for  theory  and  deduction,  and  all  that  sort 
of  thing,  Godfrey,  and  I  know  you've  pulled  off 


28o          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

some  mighty  clever  stunts;  but,  after  all,  there's 
nothing  like  patience." 

'  Yes  —  '  it's  dogged  as  does  it,'  "  agreed  God- 
frey. "  Patience  is  a  great  thing.  I  only  wish 
I  had  more  of  it." 

"  It  would  be  a  good  thing,"  assented  Sim- 
monds,  candidly;  and  then  we  fell  silent,  gazing 
out  into  the  darkness. 

"  Surely,"  said  Godfrey,  at  last,  "  it  must  be 
twelve  o'clock." 

Simmonds  got  out  his  watch  and  flashed  upon 
it  a  ray  from  his  electric  torch. 

'  Yes,"  he  said,  "  it's  four  minutes  after." 

I  felt  Godfrey's  hand  stiffen  on  my  arm. 

;'  Then  there's  something  wrong,"  he  whis- 
pered. '  You  remember,  Lester,  what  happened 
the  other  time  that  light  failed  to  appear.  A  man 
was  murdered !  " 

The  darkness  into  which  I  stared  seemed  sud- 
denly to  grow  threatening  and  sinister,  full  of 
vague  terrors.  Even  Simmonds  grew  uneasy,  and 
I  could  feel  his  arm  twitching. 

Godfrey  put  his  foot  on  the  ladder,  and  began 
to  descend.  Simmonds  and  I  followed  him 
silently. 

"  I'm  going  over  the  wall,"  he  said,  when  we 
were  on  the  ground.  "  Something's  wrong,  and 
we've  got  to  find  out  what  it  is." 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          281 

"How  will  we  get  down?"  asked  Simmonds, 
"  There's  no  ladder  there." 

Godfrey  considered  a  moment. 

"  We  can  stand  on  the  top  of  the  wall,"  he 
said,  at  last,  "  and  lift  this  ladder  over.  It  won't 
be  easy,  but  it  can  be  done.  Go  ahead,  Lester, 
and  be  careful  of  the  glass." 

I  mounted  the  ladder,  felt  cautiously  along  the 
top  of  the  wall  and  found  a  place  where  I  could 
put  my  feet;  Simmonds  followed  me,  and  then 
came  Godfrey.  His  was  the  difficult  part,  to  draw 
up  the  ladder  and  lower  it  again.  As  for  me, 
it  was  all  I  could  do  to  keep  from  falling.  I  felt 
absurdly  as  though  I  were  standing  on  a  tremulous 
tight-rope,  high  in  the  air;  but  Godfrey  managed 
it  somehow  and  started  down. 

And  at  that  instant,  there  shrilled  through  the 
night  the  high,  piercing  note  of  a  police-whistle. 
It  rose  and  fell,  rose  and  fell,  rose  and  fell;  and 
then  came  poignant  silence.  The  sound  stabbed 
through  me.  Without  hesitation  or  thought  of 
peril,  I  let  myself  go  and  plunged  downward  into 
the  darkness. 


DEADLY   PERIL 

THERE  must  be  a  providence  which  protects  fools 
and  madmen,  for  I  landed  in  a  heavy  clump  of 
shrubbery,  and  got  to  my  feet  with  no  injury  more 
serious  than  some  scratches  on  hands  and  face, 
which  at  the  time  I  did  not  even  feel.  In  a  mo- 
ment, I  had  found  the  path  and  was  speeding 
toward  the  house.  Ahead  of  me  flitted  a  dark 
shadow  which  I  knew  to  be  Godfrey,  and  behind 
me  came  the  pad-pad  of  heavy  feet,  which  could 
only  belong  to  Simmonds.  And  then,  from  the 
direction  of  the  house,  came  the  crash  of  broken 
glass. 

I  reached  the  lawn,  crossed  it,  and  traversed 
the  short  avenue  which  ended  at  the  library  door. 
Three  men  were  there,  and  Simmonds  came  pant- 
ing up  an  instant  later.  The  detectives  had  their 
torches  in  their  hands,  and  I  saw  that  they  had 
broken  one  of  the  glass  panels  of  the  doors,  and 
that  one  of  them  had  passed  a  hand  through  the 
opening  and  was  fumbling  about  inside.  There 
was  a  sharp  click,  and  the  hand  came  back. 

"  There  you  are,"  he  said,  threw  the  door  open, 
282 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          283 

and  stood  aside  for  his  superior  officer  to  lead  the 
way. 

"  What's  wrong?  "  Simmonds  asked. 

"  I  don't  know  —  but  the  girl  showed  a  light 
at  her  window." 

"  You  heard  nothing?  " 

"  Not  a  sound." 

Simmonds  hesitated.  No  doubt  the  same 
thought  occurred  to  him  as  to  me ;  for  the  lawyer- 
Tartarin  in  me  suggested  that  we  scarcely  had 
warrant  to  break  our  way  into  a  sleeping  house  in 
the  middle  of  the  night. 

But  no  such  doubts  seemed  to  disturb  Godfrey. 
Without  a  word,  he  caught  the  torch  from  Sim- 
monds's  hand,  and  passed  through  the  doorway. 
Simmonds  followed,  I  went  next,  and  the  two 
other  men  came  last,  their  torches  also  flaring. 
Three  beams  of  light  flashed  about  the  library  and 
showed  it  to  be  empty.  One  of  them  —  God- 
frey's —  lingered  on  the  high-backed  chair,  but 
this  time  it  had  no  occupant. 

Then  Godfrey  switched  on  the  light,  passed  into 
the  hall  and  switched  on  the  light  there.  The 
hall,  too,  was  empty,  and  only  the  ticking  of  a  tall 
clock  disturbed  the  silence.  I  was  faltering  and 
ready  to  turn  back,  but,  to  my  amazement,  God- 
frey crossed  the  hall  at  a  bound  and  sprang  up 
the  stair,  three  steps  at  a  time. 


284          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

"  Make  all  the  noise  you  can !  "  he  shouted  over 
his  shoulder,  and  the  clatter  of  our  feet  seemed 
enough  to  wake  the  dead. 

The  upper  hall  was  also  empty;  and  then  my 
heart  gave  a  sudden  leap,  for  the  circle  of  light 
from  Godfrey's  torch  had  come  to  rest  upon  a 
white-robed  figure,  which  had  stolen  half-way 
down  the  stair  from  the  upper  story.  It  was  the 
maid,  holding  her  night-dress  about  her;  and  her 
face  was  as  white  as  her  gown. 

Godfrey  sprang  to  her  side. 

"  What  is  it?  "  he  asked.     "  What  is  wrong?  " 

"  I  heard  a  cry,"  gasped  the  girl.  "  Down  here 
somewhere.  And  a  scuffle  in  the  dark.  A 
woman's  cry.  It  was  choked  off  short." 

Godfrey  leaped  down  among  us,  and,  as  the 
light  of  a  torch  flashed  across  it,  I  saw  that  his 
face  was  livid. 

"  Who's  got  an  extra  gun?  "  he  demanded,  and 
one  of  the  detectives  pressed  one  into  his  hand. 
"  Ready,  now,  men,"  he  added,  crossed  the  hall, 
threw  open  the  outer  door  into  Silva's  room,  and 
flung  back  the  drapery  beyond. 

My  heart  was  in  my  throat  as  I  peered  over 
Godfrey's  shoulder  at  what  lay  within ;  and  then  a 
gasp  of  amazement  from  my  companions  mingled 
with  my  own. 

For  the  crystal  sphere  was  glowing  softly,  and 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          285 

seated  cross-legged  on  the  divan,  his  hands  folded, 
his  eyes  fixed  in  meditation,  was  Silva. 

We  all  stood  for  a  moment  staring  at  him,  then 
Godfrey  passed  his  hand  dazedly  before  his  eyes. 

"  You  two  men  stay  on  guard  here,"  he  said. 
"  One  of  you  keep  your  torch  on  this  fellow,  and 
the  other  keep  his  torch  on  the  floor.  There's  a 
cobra  around  somewhere." 

An  arc  of  light  swept  shakingly  across  the  floor, 
as  one  of  the  men  turned  his  torch  toward  it.  But 
I  saw  no  sign  of  Toto. 

"  Lester,  you  and  Simmonds  come  with  me," 
Godfrey  added,  stepped  back  into  the  hall,  and 
tapped  at  the  door  of  Miss  Vaughan's  bedroom. 

There  was  no  response,  and  he  tapped  again. 
Then  he  tried  the  door,  found  it  unlocked,  and 
opened  it.  He  sent  a  ray  of  light  skimming  about 
the  room ;  then  he  found  the  switch,  turned  on  the 
lights,  and  entered. 

The  room  was  empty,  as  were  the  dressing- 
room  and  bath-room  adjoining.  The  covers  of  the 
bed  had  been  turned  back,  ready  for  its  occupant, 
but  the  bed  was  undisturbed. 

Godfrey  glanced  about  the  room  again,  a  sort 
of  frenzied  concentration  in  his  gaze,  and  then 
went  out,  leaving  the  lights  burning.  It  took  but 
a  moment  or  two  to  look  through  the  other  suites. 
They  were  all  empty. 


286          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

"  If  Miss  Vaughan  was  anywhere  about,  and 
unharmed,"  said  Godfrey,  "  the  noise  we  made 
would  have  brought  her  out  to  investigate. 
There's  only  one  place  she  can  be,"  and  he  led 
the  way  resolutely  back  to  the  door  of  Silva's  room. 

The  yogi  had  not  moved. 

Godfrey  contemplated  him  for  a  moment,  with 
his  torch  full  on  the  bearded  face.  Then  he 
crossed  the  threshold,  his  torch  sweeping  the  floor 
in  front  of  him. 

"  Let's  see  what  the  Thug  is  up  to,"  he  said, 
crossed  the  room,  drew  back  the  drapery,  and 
opened  the  door  into  the  little  closet  where  we 
had  seen  Mahbub  once  before. 

There  was  a  burst  of  acrid  smoke  into  the  room, 
and  Godfrey  stepped  back  with  a  stifled  exclama- 
tion. 

"  Come  here,  you  fellows !  "  he  cried,  and  Sim- 
monds  and  I  sprang  to  his  side. 

For  a  moment  I  could  see  nothing;  the  rolling 
clouds  of  smoke  blinded  and  choked  me;  I  could 
feel  the  tears  running  down  my  cheeks  and  my 
throat  burned  as  though  it  had  been  scalded. 

Then  the  smoke  lifted  a  little,  and  I  caught 
a  glimpse  of  what  lay  within  the  room. 

In  the  middle  of  the  floor  stood  an  open 
brazier,  with  a  thin  yellow  flame  hovering  above 
it,  now  bright,  now  dim,  as  the  smoke  whirled 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          287 

about  it.  Before  the  brazier,  sat  Mahbub,  his 
legs  crossed  with  feet  uppermost,  his  hands 
pressed  palm  to  palm  before  his  face. 

"  But  he'll  suffocate !  "  I  gasped,  and,  indeed, 
I  did  not  see  how  any  human  being  could  breathe 
in  such  an  atmosphere. 

And  then,  as  the  smoke  whirled  aside  again,  I 
saw  the  snake.  Its  head  was  waving  slowly  to 
and  fro,  its  horrible  hood  distended,  its  yellow, 
lidless  eyes  fixed  upon  us. 

Simmonds  saw  it  too,  and  retreated  a  step. 

"  We'd  better  keep  out  of  there,"  he  gasped, 
"  till  that  little  pet's  put  away  in  his  basket." 

But  Godfrey  seized  his  arm  and  dragged  him 
back  to  the  threshold  of  the  door. 

"  Look,  Simmonds,"  he  cried,  rubbing  his  drip- 
ping eyes  fiercely,  "  there  against  the  wall  —  is 
there  something  there  —  or  is  it  just  the  smoke?  " 

I  looked,  too,  but  at  first  saw  nothing,  for  a 
cloud  of  smoke  rolled  down  and  blotted  out  the 
light  from  Godfrey's  torch.  Then  it  swirled 
aside,  and  against  the  farther  wall  I  fancied  I  saw 
something  —  a  shape,  a  huddled  shape  —  gro- 
tesque—  horrible,  somehow.  .  .  . 

I  heard  Godfrey's  startled  cry,  saw  his  hand 
swing  up,  saw  a  tongue  of  yellow  flame  leap  from 
his  revolver. 

And  with  the  echo  of  the  shot,  came  a  scream 


288          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

-  a  scream  piercing,  unearthly,  of  terror  unspeak- 
able. .  .  . 

I  saw  the  Thug  spring  into  the  air,  his  face  dis- 
torted, his  mouth  open  —  I  saw  him  tearing  at 
something  that  swung  from  his  neck  —  something 
horrible,  that  clung  and  twisted.  .  .  . 

He  tore  the  thing  loose  —  it  was  only  an  instant, 
really,  but  it  seemed  an  age  —  and,  still  shrieking, 
flung  it  full  at  us. 

I  was  paralysed  with  terror,  incapable  of  move- 
ment, staring  dumbly  —  but  Godfrey  swept  me 
aside  so  sharply  that  I  almost  fell. 

And  that  foul  shape  swished  past  us,  fell  with 
a  thud,  and  was  lost  in  the  darkness. 


CHAPTER   XXIV 

KISMET  ! 

WORDS  cannot  paint  the  nauseating  horror  of  that 
moment.  Fear  —  cold,  abject,  awful  fear  — 
ran  through  my  veins  like  a  drug;  my  face  was 
clammy  with  the  sweat  of  utter  terror;  my  hands 
clutched  wildly  at  some  drapery,  which  tore  from 
its  fastenings  and  came  down  in  my  grasp.  .  .  . 

Three  shafts  of  lights  swept  across  the  floor,  and 
almost  at  once  picked  up  that  horrid  shape.  It 
was  coiled  with  head  raised,  ready  to  strike,  and 
I  saw  that  one  side  of  its  hood  had  been  shot  away. 

I  have,  more  than  once,  referred  to  Simmonds 
as  hard-headed  and  wanting  in  imagination  —  not 
always,  I  fear,  in  terms  the  most  respectful.  For 
that  I  ask  his  pardon ;  I  shall  not  make  that  mistake 
again.  For,  in  that  nerve-racking  moment,  he 
never  lost  his  coolness.  Revolver  in  hand,  he 
crept  cautiously  forward,  while  we  others  held 
our  breath;  then  the  pistol  spoke,  one,  twice,  thrice, 
and  the  ugly  head  fell  forward  to  the  floor. 

At  the  same  moment,  Godfrey  sprang  to  the 
door  from  which  volumes  of  heavy,  scented  smoke 
still  eddied,  and  disappeared  inside. 

289 


29o          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

I  scarcely  noticed  him ;  I  was  staring  at  that  foul 
object  on  the  floor;  and  then  I  stared  at  Fran- 
cisco Silva,  motionless  on  the  divan,  his  eyes  fixed 
on  the  crystal  sphere,  undisturbed  amid  all  this 
terror  and  tumult.  It  is  impossible  for  me  to  re- 
member him,  as  he  was  in  that  moment,  without 
admiration  —  yes,  and  a  little  awe. 

But  Godfrey's  voice,  shrill  with  excitement, 
brought  me  around  with  a  start. 

"  Lester !  "  he  shouted.     "  Lend  a  hand  here !  " 

Wondering  what  new  horror  lay  in  wait,  I 
fought  my  way  into  the  other  room,  stumbled  over 
the  body  of  the  Thug,  barely  saved  myself,  my 
scalp  prickling  with  terror,  from  falling  upon  it, 
and  pitched  forward  to  where  Godfrey  was  bend- 
ing above  that  huddled  shape  I  had  glimpsed 
through  the  smoke. 

"  Catch  hold!  "  he  panted;  and  choking,  stag- 
gering, suffocating,  we  dragged  it  into  the  outer 
room.  "Get  a  window  open!"  he  gasped. 
"  Get  a  window  open!  " 

And  Simmonds,  whom  nothing  seemed  to  shake, 
groped  along  the  wall  until  he  found  a  window, 
pulled  the  hangings  back,  threw  up  the  sash,  and 
flung  back  the  shutters. 

"  Quick !  "  said  Godfrey.  "  Over  there.  Now 
hold  the  torch." 

And    as    I    took    it    and   pressed    the    button 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          291 

with  a  trembling  finger,  the  halo  of  light  fell 
upon  a  bloodless  face  —  the  face  of  Marjorie 
Vaughan. 

Simmonds  was  supporting  her,  and  Godfrey, 
with  frantic  fingers,  was  loosening  her  robe  at  the 
throat.  My  terrified  eyes,  staring  at  that  throat, 
half-expected  to  find  a  cruel  mark  there,  but  its 
smoothness  was  unsullied.  The  robe  loosened, 
Godfrey  snatched  his  cap  from  his  head  and  be- 
gan to  fan  the  fresh  air  in  upon  her. 

"  Pray  heaven  it  is  not  too  late  1  "  he  murmured, 
and  kept  on  fanning,  watching  the  white  lips  and 
delicate  nostrils,  so  drawn  and  livid.  "  We  must 
try  artificial  respiration,"  he  said,  after  a  moment. 
"But  not  here  —  this  atmosphere  is  stifling. 
Take  her  feet,  Lester." 

We  staggered  out  with  her,  somehow,  across 
the  hall,  into  her  room,  and  laid  her  on  her  bed. 
Godfrey,  kneeling  above  her,  began  to  raise  and 
lower  her  arms,  with  a  steady,  regular  rhythm. 

"  Open  the  windows  wide,"  he  commanded, 
without  looking  up.  "  Wet  a  towel,  or  something, 
in  cold  water,  and  bring  it  here." 

Simmonds  threw  open  the  windows,  while  I 
went  mechanically  to  the  bath-room,  wet  a  towel, 
and  slapped  it  against  her  face  and  neck  as  God- 
frey directed.  The  moments  passed,  and  at  last 
the  lips  opened  in  a  fluttering  sigh,  the  bosom  rose 


292          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

with  a  full  inhalation,  and  a  spot  of  colour  crept 
into  either  cheek. 

"Thank  God!  "  said  Godfrey,  in  a  voice  that 
was  almost  a  sob.  "  Now,  Simmonds,  go  out  and 
bring  that  Irish  girl,  and  send  one  of  your  men 
to  'phone  for  Hinman." 

Simmonds  sent  one  of  his  men  scurrying  with 
a  word,  and  himself  dashed  up  the  stairs  to  the 
other  floor.  He  was  back  in  a  moment,  almost 
dragging  the  frightened  girl  with  him.  Her 
teeth  were  chattering  and  she  started  to  scream 
when  she  saw  that  still  form  on  the  bed,  but  Sim- 
monds shook  her  savagely. 

"  There's  nothing  to  be  afraid  of,"  Godfrey  as- 
sured her.  "  Your  mistress  isn't  dead  —  she'll 
soon  come  around.  But  you  must  get  her  un- 
dressed and  to  bed.  And  then  keep  bathing  her 
face  with  cold  water  till  the  doctor  comes.  Un- 
derstand? " 

"  Ye  —  yes,  sir,"  faltered  the  girl.  "  But  — 
— oh !  "  and  a  burst  of  hysterical  sobbing  choked 
her. 

Simmonds  shook  her  again. 

"  Don't  be  a  fool,  Annie  Crogan !  "  he  said. 
"  Get  hold  of  yourself!" 

Godfrey  stepped  off  the  bed  and  picked  up  one 
of  the  limp  wrists. 

"  Her  pulse  is  getting  stronger,"  he  said,  after 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          293 

a  moment.     "  It  will  soon  —  hello,  what's  this !  " 

Clasped  tight  in  the  slender  fingers  was  some- 
thing that  looked  like  a  torn  and  crumpled  rubber 
glove.  He  tried  to  unclasp  the  fingers,  but  when 
he  touched  them,  they  contracted  rigidly,  and  a  low 
moan  burst  from  the  unconscious  girl.  So,  after 
a  moment,  he  desisted  and  laid  the  hand  down 
again. 

'  You  understand  what  you're  to  do?  "  he  asked 
the  maid,  and  she  nodded  mutely.  "  Then  come 
along,  boys,"  he  added,  and  led  the  way  back  to 
the  hall.  His  face  was  dripping  with  perspiration 
and  his  hands  were  shaking,  but  he  managed  to 
control  them.  "  And  now  for  Senor  Silva,"  he 
said,  in  another  tone,  taking  the  torch  from  my 
hand.  "  I  fear  he  will  have  a  rude  awakening.  ' 

"  He  sat  there  like  a  statue,  even  when  I  shot 
the  snake,"  remarked  Simmonds.  "  He's  a  won- 
der, he  is." 

'  Yes,"  agreed  Godfrey,  as  he  stepped  into  the 
entry,  "  he's  a  wonder."  Then  he  stopped, 
glanced  around,  and  turned  a  stern  face  on  Sim- 
monds. "  Where's  the  man  I  left  on  guard 
here?  "  he  asked. 

"  Why,"  faltered  Simmonds,  "  I  remember  now 
—  he  helped  us  carry  the  young  lady.  But  we 
were  all  right  there  in  the  hall  —  you  don't 
mean  ." 


294          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

Godfrey  stepped  to  the  inner  door  and  flashed 
his  torch  about  the  room.  The  divan  was  empty. 

Simmonds  paused  only  for  a  single  glance. 

"  He  can't  be  far  away!  "  he  said.  "  He  can't 
get  away  in  that  white  robe  of  his.  Come  along, 
Tom !  "  and,  followed  by  his  assistant,  he  plunged 
down  the  stairs. 

I  saw  Godfrey  half-turn  to  follow;  then  he 
stopped,  ran  his  hand  along  the  wall  inside  the 
door,  found  the  button,  and  turned  on  the  lights. 
His  face  was  pale  and  angry. 

"  It's  my  fault  as  much  as  anyone's,"  he  said 
savagely.  "  I  might  have  known  Silva  would  see 
the  game  was  up,  and  try  to  slip  away  in  the  ex- 
citement. I  ought  to  have  kept  an  eye  on  him." 

"  Your  eyes  were  fairly  busy  as  it  was,"  I  re- 
marked. "  Besides,  maybe  he  hasn't  got  away." 

Godfrey's  face,  as  he  glanced  about  the  room, 
showed  that  he  cherished  no  such  hope. 

"  Let's  see  what  happened  to  Mahbub,"  he  said. 
"  Maybe  he  got  away,  too,"  and  he  crossed  to  the 
inner  door. 

The  flame  in  the  brazier  had  died  away,  and 
the  smoke  came  only  in  fitful  puffs,  heavy  with 
deadening  perfume.  The  Thug  had  not  got 
away.  He  lay  on  the  floor  —  a  dreadful  sight. 
He  was  lying  on  his  back,  his  hands  clenched,  his 
body  arched  in  a  convulsion,  his  head  drawn  far 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          295 

back.  The  black  lips  were  parted  over  the  ugly 
teeth,  and  the  eyes  had  rolled  upward  till  they 
gleamed,  two  vacant  balls  of  white.  At  the  side 
of  his  neck,  just  under  the  jaw,  was  a  hideous 
swelling. 

Godfrey's  torch  ran  over  the  body  from  head 
to  foot,  and  I  sickened  as  I  looked  at  it. 

"  I'm  going  out,"  I  said.  "  I  can't  stand  this!  " 
and  I  hurried  to  the  open  window. 

Godfrey  joined  me  there  in  a  moment. 

"  I'm  feeling  pretty  bad  myself,"  he  said,  put- 
ting the  torch  in  his  pocket  and  mopping  his  shin- 
ing forehead.  "  It's  plain  enough  what  hap- 
pened. I  caught  a  glimpse  of  Miss  Vaughan  on 
the  floor  there,  realised  that  we  couldn't  do  any- 
thing with  the  snake  in  the  way,  and  shot  at  it, 
but  I  only  ripped  away  a  portion  of  the  hood,  and 
the  thing,  mad  with  rage,  sprang  upon  the  Hindu. 
Nothing  on  earth  could  have  saved  him  after  it 
got  its  fangs  in  his  neck.  Ugh!  " 

He  shivered  slightly,  and  stood  gazing  for  a  mo- 
ment down  into  the  garden.  Then  he  turned  back 
to  me  with  a  smile. 

"  It's  a  good  night's  work,  Lester,"  he  said, 
"  even  if  we  don't  catch  Silva.  I  fancy  Miss 
Vaughan  will  change  her  mind,  now,  about  be- 
coming a  priestess  of  Siva !  " 

"But,  Godfrey,"   I  asked,   "what  happened? 


296          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

What  was  she  doing  in  there?     What     .     .     ." 

He  stopped  me  with  a  hand  upon  my  arm. 

"  I  don't  know.  But  she'll  tell  us  when  she 
comes  around.  I  only  hope  they'll  get  Silva. 
That  would  make  the  victory  complete." 

He  paused,  for  the  hum  of  a  motor-car  came  up 
the  drive,  and  an  instant  later  we  caught  the  glare 
of  the  acetylenes.  Then  a  voice  hailed  us. 

"Hello,  there,"  it  called.  "Shall  I  come 
up?" 

"Is  it  you,  doctor?"  asked  Godfrey,  leaning 
out. 

"  Yes." 

"  Come  right  up,  then,  to  Miss  Vaughan's 
room." 

We  met  him  at  the  stair-head. 

"Oh,  it's  you!"  he  said,  recognising  us. 
"  What  has  happened  now?  " 

"  It's  Miss  Vaughan  —  she's  been  half-suffo- 
cated. But  how  did  you  get  in  ?  " 

14  The  gates  were  open,"  Hinman  answered, 
"  so  I  drove  right  through.  Is  Miss  Vaughan  in 
here  ?  "  and  when  Godfrey  nodded,  he  opened  the 
door  and  closed  it  softly  behind  him. 

"  Open !  "  repeated  Godfrey,  staring  at  me. 
"  Open !  Then  that  is  the  way  Silva  went !  " 

"  Yes,  yes,"  I  agreed.  "  He  had  the  key.  It 
was  he  who  let  me  out." 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          297 

44  And  locked  the  gate  after  you?  " 

"  Yes  —  I  heard  the  key  turn." 

Without  a  word,  Godfrey  hurried  down  the 
stairs.  At  the  foot  we  met  Simmonds. 

"  We've  searched  the  grounds,"  he  said,  "  but 
haven't  found  anyone.  I've  left  my  men  on 
guard.  I  'phoned  for  some  more  men,  and  noti- 
fied headquarters." 

"  He's  not  in  the  grounds,"  said  Godfrey. 
44  He  went  out  by  the  gate,"  and  he  told  of  Hin- 
man's  discovery. 

"  I'll  stretch  a  net  over  the  whole  Bronx,"  said 
Simmonds.  44 1  don't  see  how  a  fellow  dressed  as 
he  is  can  get  away,"  and  he  hastened  off  to  do 
some  more  telephoning. 

11  Well,  we  can't  do  anything,"  said  Godfrey, 
44  so  we  might  as  well  rest  awhile,"  and  he  passed 
into  the  library  and  dropped  into  a  chair. 

I  followed  him,  but  as  I  sat  down  and  glanced 
about  the  room  I  saw  something  that  fairly  jerked 
me  to  my  feet. 

A  section  of  the  shelving  had  been  swung  for- 
ward, and  behind  it  the  door  of  the  safe  stood 
open. 

In  an  instant,  I  had  flung  myself  on  my  knees 
before  it,  groped  for  the  locked  drawer,  pulled  it 
out,  and  hurried  with  it  to  the  table. 

The  five  packets  of  money  were  gone. 


298          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

"  What  is  it,  Lester?  "  asked  Godfrey,  at  my 
side. 

"  There  was  —  fifty  thousand  dollars  —  in 
money  in  —  this  drawer,"  I  answered,  trying  to 
speak  coherently. 

Godfrey  took  the  drawer  from  my  hands  and 
examined  its  contents. 

"  Well,  it  isn't  there  now,"  he  said,  and  re- 
placed the  drawer  in  the  safe.  "  Sit  down,  Les- 
ter," and  he  pressed  me  back  into  my  chair  and 
flung  himself  into  another.  "  I  wish  I  knew 
where  Vaughan  kept  his  whiskey !  "  he  murmured, 
and  ran  his  fingers  furiously  through  his  hair. 
"  This  is  getting  too  strenuous,  even  for  me !  " 

He  fell  silent  for  a  moment,  and  sat  looking 
at  the  open  safe. 

"  What  astonishes  me,"  he  mused,  "  is  the 
nerve  of  the  man,  stopping  at  such  a  moment  to 
work  that  combination.  Think  what  that  means, 
Lester;  to  work  a  combination,  a  man  has  to  be 
cool  and  collected." 

"  A  man  who  could  sit  without  stirring  through 
that  scene  upstairs,"  I  said,  "  has  nerve  enough 
for  anything.  Nothing  Silva  does  can  surprise 
me  after  that !  " 

"  I  wonder  how  he  knew  the  combination?  " 

"  I  was  sure  he  knew  it.  I  had  to  stop  Miss 
Vaughan  to  keep  her  from  telling  it  to  me." 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          299 

"  Well,  he  lessened  his  chance  of  escape  by  just 
that  much.  Every  minute  he  spent  before  that 
safe  was  a  minute  lost.  Ah,  here's  Simmonds. 
What  do  you  think  of  that,  Simmonds?"  he 
added,  and  pointed  to  the  safe.  "  Senor  Silva 
stopped  on  his  way  out  to  gather  up  fifty  thousand 
dollars  in  cash  to  pay  his  travelling  expenses." 

Simmonds  walked  over  to  the  safe  and  looked 
at  it. 

"Fifty  thousand?"  he  repeated.  "But 
Vaughan  must  have  been  a  fool  to  keep  that  much 
money  here." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know.  It's  a  fireproof  safe,  and 
mighty  well  concealed." 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  I  think,"  I  said;  "  I  think  he 
intended  to  give  the  money  to  Silva.  He  was  go- 
ing to  give  him  a  million  —  left  him  that  in  his 
will,  you  know." 

"  So  Silva  was  only  taking  what  belonged  to 
him,  eh?"  and  Godfrey  laughed.  "Well,  I 
hope  you'll  get  him,  Simmonds." 

It  was  at  this  moment  that  Dr.  Hinman  entered, 
a  curious,  repressed  excitement  in  his  face,  and 
his  eyes  shining  strangely. 

"  How  is  she,  doctor?  "  Godfrey  asked. 

"  She'll  be  all  right  in  the  morning.  She  is 
still  pretty  nervous,  so  I  gave  her  a  sleeping- 
draught  and  waited  till  it  took  effect." 


300          THE    GLOVED   HAND 

Godfrey  looked  at  him  more  closely. 

"  Did  she  tell  you  anything?  "  he  asked. 

"  Not  much,"  said  Hinman;  "  I  wouldn't  let  her 
talk.  But  she  told  me  enough  to  let  me  guess  one 
thing  —  she's  the  bravest  girl  I  ever  knew  or 
heard  of!" 

"  What  do  you  mean?  " 

"  I  mean,"  cried  Hinman,  his  eyes  glowing 
more  and  more,  "  that  she  stayed  in  this  house  and 
faced  the  deadliest  peril  out  of  love  for  that  man 
Swain;  I  mean  that,  if  he's  cleared,  as  he's  cer- 
tain to  be  now,  it  will  be  she  who  clears  him;  I 
mean  that,  if  the  real  murderer  is  brought  to 
justice,  it  will  be  because  of  the  evidence  she  stayed 
here  to  get,  and  did  get !  " 

His  voice  had  mounted  shrilly,  and  his  face 
was  working  as  though  he  could  scarcely  keep 
back  the  tears. 

"  Wait  a  minute,  doctor,"  broke  in  Godfrey. 
"  Don't  go  too  fast.  What  evidence?  " 

For  answer,  Hinman  flipped  something  through 
the  air  to  him.  Godfrey  caught  it,  and  stared  at 
it  an  instant  in  bewilderment;  then,  with  a  stifled 
exclamation,  he  sprang  to  the  light  and  held  the 
object  close  under  it. 

"  By  all  the  gods !  "  he  cried,  in  a  voice  as  shrill 
as  Hinman's  own.  "  The  finger-prints !  " 


CHAPTER   XXV 

THE   BLOOD-STAINED   GLOVE 

I  DO  not  know  what  it  was  I  expected  to  see,  as 
I  leaped  from  my  chair  and  peered  over  Godfrey's 
shoulder;  but  certainly  it  was  something  more  im- 
pressive than  the  soiled  and  ragged  object  he  held 
in  his  hand.  It  was,  apparently,  an  ordinary  rub- 
ber glove,  such  as  surgeons  sometimes  use,  and  it 
was  torn  and  crumpled,  as  though  it  had  been  the 
subject  of  a  struggle. 

Then  I  remembered  that  I  had  seen  it  crushed 
in  Miss  Vaughan's  unconscious  fingers,  and  I  re- 
called how  the  fingers  had  stiffened  when  Godfrey 
tried  to  remove  it,  as  though  some  instinct  in  her 
sought  to  guard  it,  even  in  the  face  of  death. 

"  But  I  don't  understand,"  said  Simmonds,  who 
was  staring  over  the  other  shoulder.  "  What's 
that  thing  got  to  do  with  the  finger-prints?  " 

"  Look  here,"  said  Godfrey,  and  held  the  glove 
so  that  the  ends  of  the  fingers  lay  in  the  full  light. 

Then  I  saw  that  against  the  end  of  every  finger 
had  been  glued  a  strip  of  rubber,  about  an  inch 
in  length  and  half  as  wide;  and,  bending  closer, 
I  perceived  that  the  surface  of  each  of  these  strips 

301 


302          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

was  covered  with  an  intricate  pattern  of  minute 
lines. 

"  Forged  finger-prints !  That's  a  new  idea  in 
crime,  isn't  it,  Simmonds?"  and  Godfrey 
laughed  excitedly. 

Simmonds  took  the  glove,  got  out  his  pocket- 
glass,  and  examined  the  finger-tips  minutely. 

"  You  think  these  reproduce  Swain's  finger- 
prints? "  he  asked,  sceptically. 

"  I'm  sure  they  do !  You  see  it's  the  right 
hand ;  look  at  the  thumb  —  you  see  it's  a  double 
whorl.  Wait  till  we  put  them  side  by  side  with 
Swain's  own,  and  you'll  see  that  they  correspond, 
line  for  line.  Yes,  and  look  at  those  stains.  Do 
you  know  what  those  stains  are,  Simmonds? 
They're  blood.  Did  you  notice  the  stains, 
doctor?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Hinman.  "  I  think  they're  blood- 
stains. That  will  be  easy  enough  to  determine." 

"Whose  blood  is  it?"  asked  Simmonds,  and 
I  could  see  that  even  his  armour  had  been  pene- 
trated. 

"  Well,"  answered  Godfrey,  smiling,  "  science 
isn't  able,  as  yet,  to  identify  the  blood  of  individ- 
uals; but  I'd  be  willing  to  give  odds  that  it's 
Swain's  blood.  My  idea  is  that  Silva  got  the 
blood  for  the  finger-prints  from  the  blood-soaked 
handkerchief,  which  Swain  probably  dropped  when 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          303 

he  fled  from  the  arbour,  and  which  Silva  picked 
up  and  dropped  beside  the  chair,  after  he  was 
through  with  it,  as  an  additional  bit  of  evi- 
dence." 

4  That's  reasonable  enough,"  agreed  Hinman, 
with  a  quick  nod,  "  but  what  I  can't  understand  is 
how  he  made  these  reproductions." 

Godfrey  sat  down  again  and  contemplated  the 
glove  pensively  for  some  moments.  Then  he 
turned  to  me. 

"  Where  is  that  book  of  finger-prints  you  spoke 
about,  Lester?  "  he  asked. 

I  went  to  the  book-case  and  got  it  out.  God- 
frey took  it  and  began  to  turn  the  pages  quickly. 

"  Swain's  name  is  in  the  index,"  I  said,  and 
he  glanced  at  it,  and  then  turned  to  the  place  where 
the  page  had  been. 

"  Which  reminds  me,"  said  Hinman,  with  a 
rueful  smile,  "  that  I  concocted  a  very  pretty  the- 
ory to  account  for  that  missing  page.  I  felt  quite 
chesty  about  it!  I'm  glad  it  didn't  throw  Miss 
Vaughan  off  the  scent!  " 

"  So  am  I !  "  agreed  Godfrey,  "  for  it  must 
have  been  this  missing  page  which  gave  Miss 
Vaughan  her  first  suspicion  of  the  truth.  Per- 
haps it  was  pure  inspiration  —  or  perhaps  she 
»  knew  that  Silva  could  reproduce  finger-prints. 
We  shall  learn  when  we  hear  her  story.  In  any 


304          THE   GLOVED    HAND 

event,  it's  a  clever  trick  —  and  easy  enough  when 
you  know  how  I  " 

"  Like  standing  the  egg  on  end,"  I  suggested. 

"  Precisely.  Every  trick  is  easy  when  you 
work  it  backwards.  But  just  think,  Simmonds," 
he  added,  "  what  problems  the  police  will  have  to 
face,  if  gloves  like  these  become  fashionable 
among  cracksmen!  " 

Simmonds  groaned  dismally. 

"  You  haven't  told  us  yet  how  it's  done,"  he 
said. 

I  bit  back  a  smile,  for  Simmonds's  tone  was  that 
of  pupil  to  master. 

"  Well,"  said  Godfrey,  slowly,  "  it  might  be 
done  in  several  ways.  The  first  thing  is  to  get 
a  good  set  of  the  prints  to  be  reproduced.  That 
Silva  got  from  this  album.  The  moulds  might 
be  made  by  cutting  them  in  wood  or  metal;  but 
that  wouM  take  an  expert  —  and  besides,  I  fancy 
it  would  be  too  slow  for  Silva.  He  had  a  quicker 
way  than  that  —  perhaps  by  transferring  them  to 
a  plate  of  zinc  or  copper  and  then  eating  them 
out  with  acid.  Once  the  mould  is  secured,  it  is 
merely  a  question  of  pressing  india-rubber-mix- 
ture into  it  and  then  heating  the  rubber  until  it 
hardens  —  just  as  a  rubber-stamp  is  made.  The 
whole  process  would  take  only  a  few  hours." 

Simmonds  drew  a  deep  breath. 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          305 

"  It  may  be  simple,"  he  said,  "  but  that  fel- 
Jow's  a  genius,  just  the  same.  He's  much  too 
clever  to  be  at  large.  We've  got  to  get  him !  " 

"  Be  sure  of  one  thing,"  retorted  Godfrey. 
'  You'll  find  it  harder  to  catch  him  than  it  was  to 
let  him  go !  He  won't  walk  into  your  arms.  Not 
that  I  blame  you,  Simmonds,"  he  added;  "  but  I 
blame  those  muckle-headed  men  of  yours  —  and 
I  blame  myself  for  not  keeping  my  eyes  open. 
Here's  the  glove  —  take  good  care  of  it.  It 
means  Swain's  acquittal.  And  now  there  is  one 
other  thing  I  want  to  see  before  we  go  to  bed.  Sup- 
pose we  make  a  little  excursion  to  the  roof." 

"To  the  roof?  What  for?"  demanded  Sim- 
monds, as  he  wrapped  the  glove  in  his  handker- 
chief and  put  it  in  his  pocket. 

'  You  know  how  fond  you  are  of  fire-works !  " 
retorted  Godfrey,  smiling,  and  started  for  the 
door. 

"  I  haven't  the  slightest  idea  what  you're  talk- 
ing about,"  said  Hinman,  "  but  I'm  as  curious  as 
an  old  woman, —  and  I  like  fire-works,  too !  " 

"  Come  along,  then,"  laughed  Godfrey,  and  led 
the  way  up  the  stairs.  "  This  time  we'll  go  as 
quietly  as  we  can!  "  he  added,  over  his  shoulder. 

In  the  entry  at  the  top  of  the  stairs  leading  to 
the  attic  story  was  a  heavy  closed  door,  and  God- 
frey looked  at  it  with  a  smile. 


306          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

"  Do  you  suppose  those  two  German  servants 
have  slept  on  through  all  this  excitement?  "  he 
asked;  and  we  found  afterwards  that  they  had! 

The  flare  of  Godfrey's  torch  disclosed  a  third 
flight  of  stairs  at  the  end  of  the  entry,  and,  when 
we  reached  the  foot  of  these  and  looked  up,  we 
found  ourselves  gazing  at  the  stars. 

"Ah!"  said  Godfrey;  "I  thought  so!  The 
stage  was  set,  ready  for  the  curtain,  and  then  the 
leading  lady  failed  to  appear.  So  the  villain  went 
in  search  of  her,  found  her  with  the  glove  in  her 
hand,  and  started  to  suppress  her,  when  our  timely 
arrival  interrupted  him!  Gentlemen,  I  think  I 
can  promise  you  a  most  interesting  demonstration. 
iWhat  did  Miss  Vaughan  call  it,  Lester?  " 

"  An   astral  benediction,"   I   said. 

"  That's  it !  "  said  Godfrey,  and  led  the  way 
up  the  steps. 

There  was  a  wide,  hinged  trap-door  at  the  top, 
lying  open,  and  we  stepped  through  it  out  upon 
the  roof.  Here  had  been  built  a  platform  about 
eight  feet  square,  with  a  low  railing  around  it. 
I  saw  Godfrey's  torch  playing  rapidly  over  the 
boards  of  the  platform,  then  he  marshalled  us  in 
the  middle  of  it. 

"  Stand  here  in  a  row,"  he  said,  "  facing  the 
west.  Extend  your  arms  to  the  heavens  and  con- 
centrate your  gaze  upon  that  big  star  up  yonder. 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          307 

Go  ahead,  doctor,"  he  urged,  as  Hinman  hesi- 
tated. "  We're  trying  to  persuade  an  astral  vis- 
itor to  pay  us  a  call,  and  it  takes  team-work." 

We  stood  silent  a  moment,  with  our  arms  above 
our  heads,  and  I  could  hear  Godfrey  shifting  his 
feet  cautiously  along  the  boards  of  the  floor. 

"  What's  that !  "  cried  Simmonds,  for^rom  the 
darkness  at  our  feet,  had  come  a  soft  whirr  as  of 
a  bird  taking  flight. 

"Look!"   cried  Hinman.     "Look!" 

High  above  our  heads  a  point  of  flame  ap- 
peared, brightened  and  burned  steel-blue.  For  a 
moment  it  hung  there,  then  it  grew  brighter  and 
brighter,  and  I  knew  that  it  was  descending. 
Lower  and  lower  it  came,  until  it  hovered  in  the 
air  just  above  us;  then  it  burst  into  a  million  sparks 
and  vanished. 

For  a  moment,  no  one  spoke ;  then  I  heard  Hin- 
man's  voice,  and  it  was  decidedly  unsteady. 

"What  is  this,  anyway?"  he  demanded. 
"The  Arabian  Nights?" 

"  No,"  said  Godfrey,  and  in  his  voice  was  the 
ring  of  triumph.  "  It's  merely  a  device  of  one 
of  the  cleverest  fakirs  who  ever  lived.  Take  the 
torch,  Simmonds,  and  let  us  see  how  it  works." 

He  dropped  to  his  knees,  while  Simmonds 
lighted  him,  and  I  saw  that  there  was  a  hole  in 
the  floor  about  three  inches  in  diameter.  God- 


3o8          THE    GLOVED   HAND 

frey  felt  carefully  about  it  for  a  moment,  and 
then,  with  a  little  exclamation  of  triumph,  found 
a  hold  for  his  fingers,  pulled  sharply,  and  raised 
a  hinged  section  of  the  floor,  about  eighteen  inches 
square. 

"  Now  give  us  the  light,"  he  said,  and  plunged 
it  into  the  opening. 

In  line  with  the  little  hole  was  an  upright  metal 
tube  about  a  foot  long,  ending  in  a  small  square 
box.  Beside  the  tube,  a  slender  iron  rod  ran 
from  the  platform  down  into  the  box. 

"  That's  the  lever  that  sets  it  off,"  remarked 
Godfrey,  tapping  the  rod.  "  A  pressure  of  the 
foot  did  it." 

He  pulled  the  rod  loose,  seized  the  tube,  and 
lifted  the  whole  apparatus  out  upon  the  plat- 
form. 

"  Let's  take  it  down  where  we  can  look  at  it," 
he  said,  and,  carrying  it  easily  in  one  hand,  led 
the  way  back  to  the  library,  cleared  a  place  on  the 
table  and  set  it  down.  Then,  after  a  moment's 
examination,  he  pulled  back  a  little  bolt  and  tilted 
the  top  of  the  box,  with  the  tube  attached,  to  one 
side. 

A  curious  mechanism  lay  revealed.  There  was 
a  powerful  spring,  which  could  be  wound  up  with 
a  key,  and  a  drum  wound  with  filament-like  wire 
and  connected  with  a  simple  clock-work  to  revolve 


THE    GLOVED   HAND          309 

it.  Two  small  dry-batteries  were  secured  to  one 
side  of  the  box,  their  wires  running  to  the  drum. 

"  Why,  it's  nothing  but  a  toy  catapult!  "  I  said. 

"  That's  all,"  and  Godfrey  nodded.  "  It  re- 
mained for  Silva  to  add  a  few  trimmings  of  his 
own  and  to  put  it  to  a  unique  use.  Instead  of  a 
missile,  he  loaded  it  with  his  little  aerial  shell,  at- 
tached to  the  end  of  this  wire.  Then  he  shot  it 
off  with  a  pressure  of  the  foot;  when  it  reached  the 
end  of  the  wire,  the  pull  brought  this  platinum 
coil  against  the  battery  wires  and  closed  the  cir- 
cuit. The  spark  fired  the  shell,  and  the  drum  be- 
gan to  revolve  and  pull  it  down.  That  explains, 
Lester,  why  it  descended  so  steadily  and  in  a 
straight  line.  The  fellow  who  could  devise  a  thing 
like  that  deserves  to  succeed!  Here's  health  to 
him!" 

"  He  ought  to  be  behind  the  bars,"  growled 
Simmonds.  ;'  The  cleverer  he  is,  the  more  dan- 
gerous he  is." 

"Well,"  retorted  Godfrey,  "I  admire  him, 
anyway;  and  he  isn't  behind  the  bars  yet.  No 
doubt  you'll  find  some  of  his  shells  to-morrow 
about  the  house  somewhere,  and  you  might  amuse 
yourself  by  shooting  one  off  every  night  at  mid- 
night, on  the  chance  that  he  sees  it  and  comes  back 
to  see  who's  stealing  his  thunder !  " 

But  this  brilliant  suggestion  didn't  seem  to  ap- 


3io          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

peal  to  Simmonds,  who  merely  grunted  and  con- 
tinued his  examination  of  the  catapult. 

"  Silva  had  loaded  it  for  to-night's  perform- 
ance," Godfrey  went  on,  "  but,  as  I  remarked  be- 
fore, the  leading  lady  failed  to  answer  her  cue, 
and  it  remained  for  us  to  touch  it  off.  There  it 
is,  Simmonds;  I  turn  it  over  to  you.  It  and  the 
glove  will  make  unique  additions  to  the  museum  at 
headquarters.  And  now,"  he  added,  with  the 
wide  yawn  of  sudden  relaxation,  "  you  fellows  can 
make  a  night  of  it,  if  you  want  to,  but  I'm  going 
to  bed." 

I  glanced  at  my  watch.  It  was  half-past  four. 
Another  dawn  was  brightening  along  the  east. 

Hinman  ran  upstairs,  took  a  look  at  his  pa- 
tient, and  came  down  to  tell  us  that  she  was  sleep- 
ing calmly. 

"  She'll  be  all  right  in  the  morning,"  he  as- 
sured us;  "  and  while  I  don't  want  to  butt  in,  I'd 
certainly  like  to  hear  her  story.  Adventures  like 
this  don't  happen  very  often  to  a  country  doctor! 
May  I  come?" 

"Most  surely  I"  I  assented  warmly.  "I 
think  we  were  very  fortunate  to  have  had  you  in 
this  case,  doctor." 

"  So  do  I !  "  echoed  Godfrey,  while  Hinman 
flushed  with  pleasure.  "  And  don't  forget, 
Lester,  that  it  was  I  who  picked  him  out,  with 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          311 

nothing  better  than  the  telephone-book  to  guide 
me !  That  was  my  infallible  instinct !  " 

"  Suppose  we  say  ten  o'clock,  then?  "  I  sug- 
gested, smiling  at  Godfrey's  exuberance  —  but 
then,  I  was  feeling  rather  exuberant  myself! 

"I'll  be  here!"  said  Hinman.  "And  thank 
you,"  and  a  moment  later  we  heard  his  car  chug- 
ging away  down  the  drive. 

We  listened  to  it  for  a  moment,  then  Godfrey 
yawned  again. 

"  Come  along,  Lester,"  he  said,  "  or  I'll  go  to 
sleep  on  my  feet.  Can  I  give  you  a  bed,  Sim- 
monds?  " 

"  No,  thanks,"  said  Simmonds.  "  I'm  not 
ready  for  bed.  I'm  going  to  comb  this  whole 
neighbourhood,  as  soon  as  it's  light.  Silva  can't 
escape  —  unless  he  just  fades  away  into  the  air." 

'  You've  found  no  trace  of  him?  " 

"  I've  had  no  reports  yet,"  and  Simmonds 
walked  beside  us  down  the  drive  to  the  gate; 
"  but  my  men  ought  to  be  coming  in  pretty  soon. 
There's  a  thick  grove  just  across  the  road,  where 
he  may  be  hiding.  .  .  ." 

He  stopped,  for  a  man  was  hastening  toward 
us,  carrying  under  one  arm  a  small  white  bundle. 

Simmonds  quickened  his  pace. 

"  What's  that  you've  got?  "  he  asked. 

The  man  saluted. 


3i2          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

"  I  found  it  just  now,  sir,  in  the  bushes  near  the 
gate.  Looks  like  a  dress." 

Simmonds  unrolled  it  slowly.  It  was  the  robe 
of  the  White  Priest  of  Siva. 

Godfrey  looked  at  it  and  then  at  Simmonds, 
whose  face  was  a  study.  Then  he  took  me  by  the 
arm  and  led  me  away. 

"  I'm  afraid  Simmonds  has  his  work  cut  out 
for  him,"  he  said,  when  we  were  out  of  earshot. 
"  I  thought  so  from  the  first.  A  fellow  as  clever 
as  Silva  would  be  certain  to  keep  his  line  of  re- 
treat open.  He's  far  away  by  this  time." 

He  walked  on  thoughtfully,  a  little  smile  on  his 
lips. 

"  I'm  not  altogether  sorry,"  he  continued.  "  It 
adds  an  interest  to  life  to  know  that  he's  running 
around  the  world,  and  that  we  may  encounter  him 
again  some  day.  He's  a  remarkable  fellow, 
Lester;  one  of  the  most  remarkable  I  ever  met. 
He  comes  close  to  being  a  genius.  I'd  give  some- 
thing to  hear  the  story  of  his  life." 

That  wish  was  destined  to  be  gratified,  for, 
three  years  later,  we  heard  that  story,  or  a  part 
of  it,  from  Silva's  lips,  as  he  lay  calmly  smoking 
a  cigarette,  looking  in  the  face  of  death, —  and 
without  flinching.  Perhaps,  some  day,  I  shall  tell 
that  story. 

"  But,  Godfrey,"  I  said,  as  we  turned  in  at  his 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          313 

gate,  "  all  this  scheme  of  lies  —  the  star,  the 
murder,  the  finger-prints  —  what  was  it  all  about? 
I  can't  see  through  it,  even  yet." 

"  There  are  still  a  few  dark  places,"  he  agreed; 
"but  the  outlines  are  pretty  clear,  aren't  they?" 

"  Not  to  me  —  it's  all  a  jumble." 

"  Suppose  we  wait  till  we  hear  Miss  Vaughan's 
story,"  he  suggested.  "  After  that,  I  think,  we 
can  re-construct  the  whole  plot.  There's  one 
foundation-stone  that's  missing,"  he  added, 
thoughtfully.  "  I  wonder  if  Miss  Vaughan  uses 
a  blotting-book?  It  all  depends  upon  that!  " 

"A  blotting-book?"  I  echoed.  "But  I  don't 
see.  .  .  ." 

He  shook  himself  out  of  his  thoughts  with  a 
little  laugh. 

"  Not  now,  Lester.  It's  time  we  were  in  bed. 
Look,  there's  the  sun !  "  and  he  led  the  way  into 
the  house.  "  I'll  have  you  called  at  nine,"  he 
added,  as  he  bade  me  good-night  at  my  door. 


CHAPTER    XXVI 

THE   MYSTERY   CLEARS 

GODFREY'S  powers  of  recuperation  have  aston- 
ished me  more  than  once,  and  never  more  so  than 
when  I  found  him  at  the  breakfast-table,  as  fresh 
and  rosy  as  though  he  had  had  a  full  night's  sleep. 
But  even  I  felt  better  by  the  time  the  meal  was 
over.  It  is  wonderful  what  a  cup  of  coffee  can 
do  for  a  man! 

"  I  'phoned  a  message  to  Swain,  as  soon  as  I 
was  up,"  Godfrey  said,  "  telling  him,  in  your 
name,  that  we  had  the  evidence  to  clear  him,  and 
that  Miss  Vaughan  was  safe." 

"  I  must  go  down  to  him,"  I  said,  "  and  start 
proceedings  to  set  him  free.  I'll  get  Simmonds  to 
go  with  me  before  Goldberger,  and  then  before 
the  magistrate.  We  ought  to  get  an  order  of  re- 
lease at  once." 

"  You've  got  something  to  do  before  that," 
Godfrey  reminded  me.  "  We're  to  hear  Miss 
Vaughan's  story  at  ten  o'clock.  I'm  taking  it  for 
granted,"  he  added,  with  a  smile,  "  that  I'll  be 
welcome,  as  well  as  Hinman." 

"  That  doesn't  need  saying,"  I  retorted,  and  ten 
!*• 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          315 

minutes  later,  we  were  on  the  way  to  Elmhurst. 

There  was  a  man  on  guard  at  the  library  door, 
but  he  allowed  us  to  pass  when  we  gave  our  names, 
having  evidently  had  his  instructions  from  Sim- 
monds.  In  answer  to  Godfrey's  question,  he  said 
that,  so  far  as  he  knew,  no  trace  had  been  found 
of  Silva. 

We  went  on  into  the  room,  and  found  that  some 
one,  Simmonds  presumably,  had  closed  the  safe 
and  swung  the  section  of  shelving  back  into  place 
before  it.  It  was  not  locked,  however,  and  I 
opened  it  and  went  through  its  contents  carefully, 
with  the  faint  hope  that  the  money  might  have 
been  thrust  into  some  other  compartment.  But  I 
found  no  trace  of  it,  and  was  replacing  the  con- 
tents, when  a  voice  at  the  threshold  brought  me 
to  my  feet. 

"  Mr.  Lester !  "  it  said,  and  I  turned  to  behold 
a  vision  which  made  me  catch  my  breath  —  a 
vision  of  young  womanhood,  with  smiling  lips  and 
radiant  eyes  —  a  vision  which  came  quickly  to- 
ward me,  with  hands  outstretched. 

"  Miss  Vaughan!  "  I  cried,  and  took  the  hands 
and  held  them. 

"  Can  you  forgive  me?  "  she  demanded. 

"For  what?" 

"  For  treating  you  so  badly!  Oh,  I  could  see 
what  you  thought  of  me,  and  I  longed  to  tell  you 


316          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

it  was  only  make-believe,  but  I  didn't  dare!  I 
could  see  your  grimace  of  disgust,  when  I  fell  on 
my  knees  beside  the  chair  yonder.  .  .  ." 

"  Miss  Vaughan,"  I  broke  in,  "  whatever  my 
sentiments  may  have  been  —  and  I  was  an  idiot  not 
to  suspect  the  truth !  —  they  have  all  changed  into 
enthusiastic  admiration.  You  were  wiser  and 
braver  than  all  of  us." 

A  wave  of  colour  swept  into  her  cheeks. 

"  I  might  add,"  I  went  on,  "  that  I  thought 
white  robes  becoming,  but  they  were  not  nearly  so 
becoming  as  this  gown!  " 

"It  is  of  the  last  century!"  she  protested. 
"  But  anything  is  better  than  that  masquerade ! 
And  when  —  when.  .  .  ." 

"  I  think  I  can  get  Swain  free  this  afternoon," 
I  answered.  "  I'm  going  to  try,  anyway.  Mr. 
Godfrey  'phoned  him  the  good  news  the  first  thing 
this  morning.  This  is  Mr.  Godfrey,  Miss 
Vaughan,"  I  added,  "  and  very  eager  to  shake 
hands  with  you." 

"  Very  proud,  too,"  said  Godfrey,  coming  for- 
ward and  suiting  the  action  to  the  word. 

There  was  a  step  on  the  walk  outside,  and  Dr. 
Hinman  appeared  at  the  door. 

"  Well !  "  he  cried,  coming  in,  his  face  beam- 
ing. "  There's  no  need  for  me  to  ask  how  my 
patient's  doing!  " 


THE    GLOVED   HAND          317 

"  I'm  afraid  you  haven't  got  any  patient,  any 
more,  doctor,"  I  laughed. 

"  I'm  afraid  not,"  agreed  Hinman.  "  I'll  have 
to  go  back  to  my  office  and  wait  for  another  one. 
But  before  I  go,  Miss  Vaughan,  I  want  to  hear 
the  story.  Mr.  Lester  promised  me  I  should." 

Miss  Vaughan  looked  at  me. 

"We  all  want  to  hear  it,"  I  said;  "how  you 
came  to  suspect  —  how  you  got  the  glove  — 
everything." 

Her  face  grew  sober,  and  a  shadow  flitted  across 
it. 

"  Suppose  we  sit  down,"  she  said,  and  just  then 
the  sentry  at  the  door  saluted  and  Simmonds 
stepped  into  the  room. 

I  saw  him  shake  his  head  in  answer  to  Godfrey's 
questioning  look  and  knew  that  Silva  had  not  been 
found.  Then  I  brought  him  forward  to  Miss 
Vaughan  and  introduced  him. 

"  Mr.  Simmonds,"  I  explained,  "  has  been  in 
charge  of  this  case;  and  it  was  he  who  arranged  to 
watch  the  house,  for  fear  some  harm  would  befall 
you.  .  .  ." 

"  I  know,"  broke  in  Miss  Vaughan,  clasping 
Simmonds's  hand  warmly.  "  Annie  told  me  all 
about  it  this  morning.  I  don't  know  how  to  thank 
you,  Mr.  Simmonds." 

"  Oh,  it  wasn't  me,  especially,"  protested  Sim- 


318          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

monds,  red  to  the  ears.  "  It  was  really  Godfrey 
there,  and  Mr.  Lester.  They  were  worried  to 
death." 

"  We  were  rather  worried,"  Godfrey  admitted; 
"  especially  after  we  saw  you  at  that  midnight  fire- 
works party." 

"You  saw  that?"  she  asked  quickly;  "but 
how.  .  .  ." 

"  Oh,  we  had  seen  the  show  every  night  for 
a  week.  It  was  its  failure  to  come  off  last  night 
which  first  told  us  something  was  wrong." 

"  Well,"  said  Miss  Vaughan,  with  a  deep 
breath,  sitting  down  again  and  motioning  us  to  fol- 
low her  example,  "  it  seems  to  me  that  you  have  a 
story  to  tell,  too !  But  I'll  tell  mine  first.  Where 
shall  I  begin?" 

"  Begin,"  I  suggested,  "  at  the  moment  when 
you  first  suspected  the  plot." 

"  That  was  when  you  were  telling  me  of  Fred's 
arrest.  When  you  told  me  of  the  handkerchief 
and  then  of  the  finger-prints,  I  knew  that  some- 
one was  plotting  against  him.  And  then,  quite 
suddenly,  I  thought  of  something." 

"  You  jumped  up,"  I  said,  "  as  though  you 
were  shot,  and  ran  to  the  book-case  over  there  and 
got  down  that  album  of  finger-prints,  and  found 
that  Swain's  were  missing.  That  seemed  to  up- 
set you  completely." 


THE   GLOVED   HAND          319 

"  It  did ;  and  I  will  tell  you  why.  My  father, 
for  many  years,  had  been  a  collector  of  finger- 
prints. All  of  his  friends  were  compelled  to  con- 
tribute; and  whenever  he  made  a  new  acquaint- 
ance, he  got  his  prints,  too,  if  he  could.  He  be- 
lieved that  one's  character  was  revealed  in  one's 
finger-prints,  and  he  studied  them  very  carefully. 
It  was  a  sort  of  hobby;  but  it  was,  for  some 
reason,  distasteful  to  Senor  Silva.  He  not  only 
refused  to  allow  prints  to  be  made  of  his  fingers, 
but  he  pooh-poohed  my  father's  theories,  and  they 
used  to  have  some  terrific  arguments  about  it. 
One  night,  after  a  particularly  hot  argument, 
Senor  Silva  made  the  assertion  that  he  could,  by 
hypnotic  suggestion,  cause  his  servant  Mahbub  to 
reproduce  any  finger-prints  he  desired.  Mah- 
bub's  finger-tips  had  been  manipulated  in  some 
way,  when  he  was  a  child,  so  that  they  showed 
only  a  series  of  straight  lines." 

4  Yes,"  I  said,  "  his  prints  were  taken  at  the 
inquest." 

"  Father  said  that  if  Senor  Silva  could  show 
him  proof  of  that  assertion,  he  would  never  look 
at  finger-prints  again.  Senor  Silva  asked  for  a 
week  in  which  to  make  a  study  of  the  prints,  in 
order  to  impress  them  upon  his  memory;  at  the 
end  of  that  time,  the  test  was  made.  It  was  a 
most  extraordinary  one.  Senor  Silva,  father,  and 


320          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

I  sat  at  the  table  yonder,  under  the  light,  with  the 
book  of  prints  before  us.  Mahbub  was  placed  at 
a  little  table  in  the  far  corner,  with  his  back  to  us, 
and  Seiior  Silva  proceeded  to  hypnotise  him.  It 
took  only  a  moment,  for  he  could  hypnotise  Mah- 
bub by  pointing  his  finger  at  him.  He  said 
Mahbub  was  a  splendid  subject,  because  he  had 
hypnotised  him  hundreds  of  times,  and  had  him 
under  perfect  control.  Then  he  placed  an  ink- 
pad  on  the  table  in  front  of  him  —  nothing  else. 
My  father  wrote  his  name  and  the  date  upon  the 
top  sheet  of  a  pad  of  paper,  and  Senor  Silva 
placed  it  before  Mahbub.  Then  he  sat  down  with 
us,  selected  a  page  of  prints,  and  asked  us  to  con- 
centrate our  minds  upon  it.  At  the  end  of  a 
few  moments,  he  asked  me  to  bring  the  pad  from 
before  Mahbub.  I  did  so,  and  we  found  the 
prints  upon  it  to  be  identical  with  those  on  the 
page  we  had  been  looking  at.  My  father  touched 
them  with  his  finger  and  found  that  they  were 
fresh,  as  the  ink  smeared  readily.  His  name  was 
on  the  corner  of  the  page,  where  he  had  written 
it.  There  could  be  no  doubt  that  in  some  way 
Mahbub  had  been  able  to  duplicate  the  prints. 

"  Senor  Silva  repeated  the  experiment  with  an- 
other set  of  prints  and  then  with  another.  I  think 
there  were  six  altogether,  and  every  one  of  them 
was  successful." 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          321 

"Was  Swain's  one  of  them?  "  asked  Godfrey. 

"  No;  but  when  Mr.  Lester  told  me  that  Fred 
was  suspected  because  of  those  finger-prints,  the 
thought  flashed  into  my  mind  that  if  Serior  Silva 
and  Mahbub  could  imitate  those  of  other  people, 
they  could  imitate  Fred's,  too ;  and  when  I  looked 
at  the  album  and  found  that  sheet  torn  out,  I  was 
sure  that  was  what  had  happened." 

"  And  so  you  decided  to  stay  in  the  house,  to 
win  Senor  Silva's  confidence  by  pretending  to  be- 
come a  convert,  and  to  search  for  evidence  against 
him,"  I  said.  "  That  was  a  brave  thing  to  do, 
Miss  Vaughan." 

"  Not  so  brave  as  you  think,"  she  objected, 
shaking  her  head.  "  I  did  not  believe  that  there 
would  be  any  real  danger,  with  the  three  servants 
in  the  house.  Only  at  the  last  did  I  realise  the 
desperate  nature  of  the  man.  .  .  ." 

She  stopped  and  shivered  slightly. 

''  Tell  us  what  happened,"  I  said. 

"  It  was  on  Sunday  afternoon,"  she  continued, 
"  that  I  went  to  Senor  Silva  and  told  him  that  I 
had  decided  to  carry  out  my  father's  wish,  re- 
nounce the  world,  and  become  a  priestess  of  Siva. 
I  shall  never  forget  the  fire  in  his  eyes  as  he  lis- 
tened —  they  fairly  burned  into  me." 

"  Ah!  "  said  Godfrey.     "  So  that  was  it!  " 

She  looked  at  him  inquiringly. 


322          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

"  Except  upon  one  hypothesis,"  he  explained, 
"  that  action  on  your  part  would  have  embarrassed 
Silva,  and  he  would  have  tried  to  dissuade  you. 
He  had  left  him  by  your  father's  will  this  valu- 
able place  and  a  million  dollars.  If  money  had 
been  all  he  sought,  that  would  have  satisfied  him, 
and  he  would  have  tried  to  get  rid  of  you.  That 
he  did  not  —  that  his  eyes  burned  with  eagerness 
when  you  told  him  of  your  decision  —  proves  that 
he  loved  you  and  wanted  you  also." 

A  brighter  colour  swept  into  Miss  Vaughan's 
cheeks,  but  she  returned  his  gaze  bravely. 

"  I  think  that  is  true,"  she  assented,  in  a  low 
voice.  "  It  was  my  suspicion  of  that  which  made 
me  hesitate  —  but  finally  I  decided  that  there  was 
no  reason  why  I  should  spare  him  and  let  an  in- 
nocent man  suffer  for  him." 

"  Especially  when  you  loved  the  innocent  man," 
I  added  to  myself,  but  managed  to  keep  the  words 
from  my  lips. 

"  As  soon  as  I  told  him  of  my  decision,"  Miss 
Vaughan  continued,  "  he  led  me  to  the  room  where 
the  crystal  sphere  is,  placed  me  on  the  divan,  sat 
down  opposite  me,  and  began  to  explain  to  me  the 
beliefs  of  his  religion.  Meditation,  it  seems,  is 
essential  to  it,  and  it  was  by  gazing  at  the  crystal 
that  one  could  separate  one's  soul  from  one's  body 
and  so  attain  pure  and  profound  meditation." 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          323 

"  Was  that  your  first  experience  of  crystal-gaz- 
ing? "  Godfrey  asked. 

"  Yes;  both  he  and  my  father  had  often  tried  to 
persuade  me  to  join  them.  They  often  spent 
whole  nights  there.  But  it  seemed  to  me  that  the 
breaking  down  of  father's  will  was  due  to  it  in 
some  way;  I  grew  to  have  a  fear  and  horror  of 
it,  and  so  I  always  refused." 

"  The  change  in  your  father  was  undoubtedly 
directly  traceable  to  it,"  Godfrey  agreed.  "  Dur- 
ing those  periods  of  crystal-gazing,  he  was  really 
in  a  state  of  hypnosis,  induced  by  Silva,  with  his 
mind  bare  to  Silva's  suggestions;  and  as  these  were 
repeated,  he  became  more  and  more  a  mere  echo 
of  Silva's  personality.  That  was  what  Silva  de- 
sired for  you,  also." 

"  I  felt  something  of  the  sort,  though  I  never 
really  understood  it,"  said  Miss  Vaughan;  "and 
as  I  sat  there  on  the  divan  that  Sunday  afternoon, 
with  his  burning  eyes  upon  me,  I  was  terribly 
afraid.  His  will  was  so  much  stronger  than  mine, 
and  besides,  I  could  not  keep  my  eyes  from  the 
crystal.  In  the  end,  I  had  a  vision  —  a  dread- 
ful vision." 

She  pressed  her  hands  to  her  eyes,  as  though  it 
was  still  before  her. 

'The  vision  of  your  father's  death?"  I  ques- 
tioned. 


324          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

She  nodded. 

"With  Swain  as  the  murderer?" 

"  How  did  you  know?  "  she  asked,  astonished. 

"  Because  he  induced  the  same  vision  in  me  the 
next  evening.  But  don't  let  me  interrupt." 

"  I  don't  know  how  long  the  seance  lasted," 
she  continued;  "  some  hours,  I  suppose,  for  it 
was  dark  when  I  again  realised  where  I  was. 
And  after  dinner,  there  was  another;  and  then  at 
midnight  he  led  me  to  the  roof  and  invoked  what 
he  called  an  astral  benediction  —  a  wonderful, 
wonderful  thing.  .  .  ." 

Godfrey  smiled  drily. 

'  You  were  overwrought,  Miss  Vaughan,"  he 
said,  "  and  straight  from  a  spell  of  crystal-gaz- 
ing. No  wonder  it  impressed  you.  But  it  was 
really  only  a  clever  trick." 

"  I  realise,  now,  that  it  must  have  been  a  trick," 
she  agreed;  "  but  at  the  time  it  seemed  an  unques- 
tionable proof  of  his  divine  power.  When  it  was 
over,  I  had  just  sufficient  strength  of  will  remain- 
ing to  tear  myself  away  from  him  and  gain  my 
own  room  and  lock  the  door." 

"You  mean  he  tried  to  detain  you?" 

"  Not  with  his  hands.  But  I  could  feel  his 
will  striving  to  conquer  mine.  Even  after  I  was 
in  my  room,  I  could  feel  him  calling  me.  In  the 
morning,  I  was  stronger.  I  lay  in  bed  until  nearly 


THE    GLOVED   HAND          325 

noon,  trying  to  form  some  plan;  but  I  began  to 
fear  that  I  must  give  it  up.  I  realised  that,  after 
a  few  more  nights  like  the  night  before,  I  should 
no  longer  have  a  will  of  my  own  —  that  what  I 
was  pretending  would  became  reality.  I  decided 
that  I  could  risk  one  more  day  —  perhaps  two; 
but  I  felt  very  weak  and  discouraged.  You  see, 
I  did  not  know  what  to  look  for,  or  where  to  look. 
I  wanted  evidence  against  him,  but  I  had  no  idea 
what  the  evidence  would  be.  I  wanted  to  search 
his  room,  but  I  had  not  been  able  to,  because  he 
was  scarcely  ever  out  of  it,  except  when  he  was 
with  me;  and,  besides,  Mahbub  was  always  squat- 
ting in  the  little  closet  next  to  it. 

"  I  got  up,  at  last,  and  after  breakfast  he  met 
me  here  in  the  library.  He  suggested  another 
seance,  but  I  pleaded  a  headache,  and  he  walked 
with  me  about  the  grounds.  I  remembered  that 
you  were  to  come  in  the  evening,  Mr.  Lester,  and 
I  determined  to  leave  you  with  him,  on  some  pre- 
text, and  search  his  room  then.  I  told  him  you 
were  coming,  that  I  had  asked  you  to  take  charge 
of  my  affairs;  and  it  was  then  he  told  me  of  the 
legacy  he  believed  my  father  had  left  him,  add- 
ing that  whether  the  legacy  should  stand  or  not 
was  entirely  in  my  hands.  Then  I  began  to  feel 
his  influence  again,  and  managed  to  excuse  myself 
and  go  indoors. 


326          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

"  You  know  what  happened  in  the  evening,  Mr. 
Lester.  As  soon  as  I  left  you,  I  flew  to  his  room, 
determined  to  search  it  at  any  cost.  But  I  was 
scarcely  inside,  when  I  heard  the  outer  door  open, 
and  I  had  just  time  to  get  behind  the  curtains  in 
one  corner,  when  someone  entered.  Peering  out, 
I  saw  that  it  was  Mahbub.  He  looked  about  for 
a  moment,  and  then  sat  down  on  the  divan,  folded 
his  feet  under  him,  and  fell  into  a  contemplation 
of  the  sphere.  I  scarcely  dared  to  breathe.  I 
was  always  afraid  of  Mahbub,"  she  added;  "  far 
more  so  than  of  Senor  Silva.  About  Senor  Silva 
there  was  at  least  something  warm  and  human; 
but  Mahbub  impressed  me  somehow  as  a  brother 
to  the  snake,  he  seemed  so  cold  and  venomous." 

"You  knew  he  was  dead?"  I  asked,  as  she 
paused. 

"Yes;  Annie  told  me,"  and  she  shuddered 
slightly. 

"  The  cobra,  too,  is  dead,"  added  Godfrey. 
"  I  agree  with  you,  Miss  Vaughan.  There  was  a 
kinship  between  them  —  though  the  cobra  turned 
against  him)  in  the  end.  How  long  did  he  sit 
there?" 

"  I  do  not  know  —  but  it  seemed  an  age  to  me. 
Finally,  in  despair,  I  had  made  up  my  mind  to 
try  to  steal  away,  when  I  heard  steps  in  the  entry. 
Mahbub  slipped  from  the  divan  and  disappeared 


THE    GLOVED   HAND          327 

behind  the  curtains,  and  then  the  door  opened  and 
Senor  Silva  and  Mr.  Lester  entered.  I  saw,  at 
once,  that  there  was  to  be  another  seance,  and  that 
I  could  not  escape,  for  Senor  Silva  sat  down  facing 
the  corner  where  I  was.  I  could  only  brace  my- 
self against  the  wall  and  wait.  It  was  a  dread- 
ful ordeal.  But  it  had  its  reward,"  she  added, 
with  a  smile. 

"  And  that  was?  "  I  asked. 

"  The  discovery  of  the  glove.  Senor  Silva  sud- 
denly switched  on  the  lights,  and  I  knew  that  the 
seance  was  over;  but  he  had  some  difficulty  in 
arousing  you  —  the  trance  must  have  been  a  very 
deep  one  —  and  finally,  leaving  you  lying  on  the 
divan,  he  went  to  the  wall,  drew  aside  the  hang- 
ings, and  pressed  his  hand  against  a  panel.  A 
little  door  flew  open,  and  I  saw  that  there  was  a 
cupboard  in  the  wall.  He  filled  a  glass  with  some 
liquid,  pulled  the  hangings  into  place,  and  went 
back  to  you  and  made  you  drink  it.  It  seemed 
to  do  you  good." 

'  Yes,"  I  said;  "  it  brought  me  around  at  once. 
And  then?" 

"  And  then,  as  soon  as  you  went  out  together, 
I  ran  to  the  cupboard  and  looked  into  it.  But 
for  a  moment  I  was  confused  —  I  saw  nothing 
which  seemed  of  any  importance  —  some  bottles 
and  decanters  and  glasses,  a  glass  tray  or  two, 


328          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

a  pile  of  rubber  gloves.  I  couldn't  understand. 
I  picked  up  one  of  the  gloves  and  looked  at  it, 
but  it  was  just  an  ordinary  glove.  Then  farther 
back,  I  saw  some  others  —  their  finger-tips  were 
stained  with  ink  —  and  then  another,  lying  by  it- 
self. I  looked  at  it,  I  saw  the  patches  on  the 
finger-tips  —  I  saw  the  stains  —  and  then  I  under- 
stood. I  do  not  know  how  I  understood,  or  why 
—  it  was  like  a  flash  of  lightning,  revealing  every- 
thing. And  then,  as  I  stood  there,  with  the  glove 
in  my  hand,  I  heard  Senor  Silva  returning." 

She  paused  a  moment,  and  I  could  see  the  shiver 
which  ran  through  her  at  the  recollection. 

"  It  was  not  that  I  was  afraid,"  she  said;  "  it 
was  that  I  seemed  to  be  lost.  I  let  the  draperies 
fall,  ran  to  the  divan  and  sat  down  before  the 
sphere.  I  could  think  of  nothing  else  to  do.  I 
can  still  see  his  astonished  face  when  he  entered 
and  found  me  sitting  there. 

'  I  was  waiting  for  you,'  I  said,  trying  to  smile. 
'  You  remember  I  was  to  have  another  lesson  to- 
night.' 

*  Yes,'  he  said,  and  looked  at  me,  his  eyes 
kindling. 

"  I  was  trembling  inwardly,  for  suddenly  I 
began  to  fear  him;  I  knew  that  I  must  keep  my 
head,  that  I  must  not  yield  to  his  will,  or  I  would 
be  swept  away. 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          329 

"  '  I  thought  Mr.  Lester  would  never  go,'  I 
said. 

"  He  came  to  the  divan  and  sat  down  close  beside 
me,  and  looked  into  my  eyes. 

"  *  Did  the  time  really  seem  so  long?  '  he  asked. 

"  '  It  seemed  very  long,'  I  said. 

"  He  gazed  at  me  for  another  moment,  then 
rose  quickly  and  turned  off  the  light. 

"  '  Sit  where  you  are,'  he  said,  '  and  I  will  sit 
here.  Fix  your  eyes  upon  the  sphere  and  your 
mind  upon  the  Infinite  Mind  —  so  shall  gpeat 
wisdom  come  to  you.' 

"  I  felt  my  will  crumbling  to  pieces;  I  closed  my 
eyes  and  crushed  the  glove  within  my  hand,  and 
thought  of  this  man's  villainy  and  of  the  part  I 
imust  play,  if  I  were  to  defeat  him.  His  voice 
went  on  and  on,  but  gradually  I  ceased  to  hear  it 
- 1  was  thinking  of  the  glove,  of  escape,  of 
Fred.  .  .  ." 

Yea,  love  is  strong,  I  told  myself,  and  it  giveth 
to  the  dove  the  wisdom  of  the  serpent,  else  how 
had  this  child  come  victorious  from  such  an  or- 
deal! 

"  I  do  not  know  how  long  I  sat  there,"  Miss 
Vaughan  continued,  "  but  Senor  Silva  rose  sud- 
denly with  an  exclamation  of  impatience  and 
switched  on  the  light. 

"  *  There  is  something  wrong,'  he  said,   com- 


330          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

ing  back  and  standing  over  me.     '  Some  hostile 
influence  is  at  work.     What  is  it?  ' 

'  I  do  not  know,'  I  said.     '  I  cannot  lose  my- 
self as  I  did  last  night.' 

"  '  Something  holds  you  to  earth  —  some  chain. 
Perhaps  it  is  your  own  wish.' 

"  '  No,  no!  '  I  protested.     '  Let  us  try  again.' 

"  He  switched  off  the  light  and  sat  down  facing 
me,  and  again  I  felt  his  will  trying  to  enter  and 
conquer  me.  And  again  I  clasped  the  glove,  and 
kept  my  mind  upon  it,  thinking  only  of  escape." 

You  can  guess  how  we  were  leaning  forward, 
listening  breathless  to  this  narrative.  I  fancied  I 
could  see  her  sitting  there  in  the  darkness,  with 
Silva's  evil  influence  visibly  about  her,  but  held 
at  bay  by  her  resolute  innocence,  as  Christian's 
shield  of  Faith  turned  aside  the  darts  of  Apollyon. 
It  was,  indeed,  a  battle  of  good  and  evil,  the  more 
terrible  because  it  was  fought,  not  with  bodily 
weapons,  but  with  spiritual  ones. 

"  At  last,  Serior  Silva  rose  again,"  Miss 
Vaughan  continued,  "  and  turned  on  the  lights, 
and  I  shivered  when  I  met  his  gaze. 

"  '  You  are  defying  me,'  he  said,  very  low. 
'  But  I  will  break  you  yet,'  and  he  clapped  his 
hands  softly  together. 

"  Mahbub  appeared  at  the  inner  door,  received 
a  sharp  order,  and  disappeared  again.  A  mo- 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          331 

ment  later,  there  was  a  little  swirl  of  smoke  from 
the  door  of  his  room,  and  a  sharp,  over-powering 
odour,  which  turned  me  faint. 

"  And  then  Serior  Silva,  who  had  been  pacing 
up  and  down  the  room,  stopped  suddenly  and 
looked  at  me,  his  face  distorted. 

"  '  Is  it  that?  '  he  muttered.     '  Can  it  be  that?  ' 

"  And  he  strode  to  the  curtain  which  hung  be- 
fore his  secret  cupboard  and  swept  it  back. 

"  I  knew  that  I  was  lost.  I  sprang  for  the 
outer  door,  managed  to  get  it  open  and  set  a  foot 
in  the  hall,  before  he  seized  me.  I  remember  that 
I  screamed,  and  then  his  hand  was  at  my  throat 
—  and  I  suppose  I  must  have  fainted,"  she  added, 
with  a  little  smile,  "  for  the  next  thing  I  remember 
is  looking  up  and  seeing  Dr.  Hinman." 

I  sat  back  in  my  chair  with  a  long  breath  of  re- 
lief. My  tension  during  the  telling  of  the  story 
had  been  almost  painful;  and  it  was  not  until  it 
was  ended  that  I  saw  two  other  men  had  entered 
while  Miss  Vaughan  was  speaking.  I  was  on  my 
feet  as  soon  as  I  saw  them,  for  I  recognised  Gold- 
berger  and  Sylvester. 

"  Simmonds  telephoned  me  this  morning  that  I 
was  needed  out  here  again,"  Goldberger  explained., 
"  But  first  I  want  to  shake  hands  with  Miss 
iVaughan." 

"You     have     met     Mr.     Goldberger,     Miss 


332          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

Vaughan,"  I  said,  as  he  came  forward,  "  but  Dr. 
Hinman  didn't  tell  you  that  he's  the  cleverest  coro- 
ner in  greater  New  York." 

"  He  doesn't  really  think  so,  Miss  Vaughan," 
Goldberger  laughed.  "  You  ought  to  read  some 
of  the  things  he's  written  about  me !  But  I  want 
to  say  that  I  heard  most  of  your  story,  and  it's 
a  wonder.  About  that  glove,  now,  Simmonds," 
he  added,  turning  to  the  detective.  "  I'd  like  to 
see  it  —  and  Sylvester  here  is  nearly  dying  to." 

"  Here  it  is,"  said  Simmonds,  and  took  it  from 
his  pocket  and  passed  it  over. 

Goldberger  looked  at  it,  then  handed  it  to  Syl- 
vester, who  fairly  seized  it,  carried  it  to  the  door, 
and  examined  it  with  gleaming  eyes.  Then,  with- 
out a  word,  he  took  an  ink-pad  from  his  pocket, 
slipped  the  glove  upon  his  right  hand,  inked  the 
tips  of  the  fingers  and  pressed  them  carefully  upon 
a  sheet  of  paper.  From  an  inner  pocket,  he  pro- 
duced a  sheaf  of  photographs,  laid  them  beside 
the  prints,  and  carefully  compared  them.  Finally 
he  straightened  up  and  looked  at  us,  his  face  work- 
ing. 

"Do  you  know  what  this  does,  gentlemen?" 
he  asked,  in  a  voice  husky  with  emotion.  :<  It 
strikes  at  the  foundation  of  the  whole  system  of 
finger-print  identification!  It  renders  forever  un- 
certain a  method  we  thought  absolutely  safe  1  It's 


THE   GLOVED   HAND          333 

the  worst  blow  that  has  ever  been  struck  at  the 
police !  " 

'  You  mean  the  prints  agree  with  the  photo- 
graphs?" asked  Godfrey,  going  to  his  side. 

"  Absolutely !  "  said  Sylvester,  and  mopped  his 
face  with  a  shaking  hand. 


CHAPTER   XXVII 

THE    END   OF   THE    CASE 

To  Sylvester,  head  of  the  Indentification  Bureau,  it 
seemed  that  the  world  was  tottering  to  its  fall ;  but 
the  rest  of  us,  who  had  not  really  at  the  bottom  of 
our  hearts,  perhaps,  believed  in  the  infallibility  of 
the  finger-print  system,  took  it  more  calmly.  And 
presently  we  went  upstairs  to  take  a  look  at  the 
contents  of  Silva's  secret  cupboard.  When  he  had 
first  come  to  the  house,  Miss  Vaughan  explained, 
he  had  been  given  carte-blanche  in  this  suite  of 
rooms.  He  had  them  remodelled,  installed  the 
circular  divan  and  crystal  sphere,  selected  the 
hangings,  and  had  at  the  same  time,  no  doubt, 
caused  the  secret  cupboard  to  be  built. 

Its  contents  were  most  interesting.  There  was 
a  box  of  aerial  bombs,  which  Godfrey  turned  over 
to  Simmonds  with  the  injunction  to  go  and  amuse 
himself.  For  Sylvester's  contemplation  and 
further  confusion  were  the  gloves  with  which  Silva 
had  managed  his  parlour  mystification  scheme,  six 
pairs  of  them ;  and  there  was  also  the  very  simple 
apparatus  with  which  the  finger-print  reproduc- 
tions had  been  made  —  an  apparatus,  as  Godfrey 

334 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          335 

haa  suggested,  similar  in  every  way  to  that  used 
for  making  rubber  stamps.  There,  too,  were  the 
plates  of  zinc  upon  which  the  impressions  of 
the  prints  had  been  etched  with  acid.  And,  finally, 
there  were  various  odds  and  ends  of  a  juggler's 
outfit,  as  well  as  various  bottles  of  perfumes, 
essences,  and  liquids  whose  properties  we  could  not 
guess. 

Godfrey  looked  at  the  gloves  carefully,  as 
though  in  search  of  something,  and  at  last  selected 
one  of  them  with  a  little  exclamation  of  satisfaction. 

"  I  thought  so  I "  he  said,  and  held  it  up. 
"  Look  at  this  glove,  Sylvester.  You  see  it  has 
never  been  used  —  there  is  no  ink  on  it.  Do  you 
know  what  it  is?  It's  the  print  of  Swain's  left 
hand." 

Sylvester  took  it  and  looked  at  it. 

"  It's  a  left  hand  all  right,"  he  said.  "  B-:t 
what  makes  you  think  it  is  Swain's?  " 

"  Because  Silva  expected  to  use  both  hands,  till 
he  learned  that  Swain  had  injured  one  of  his. 
But  for  that,  the  blood  needed  to  make  the  prints 
would  have  come  from  the  victim,  and  Silva  would 
have  worn  this  glove,  too;  but  Swain's  injury  gave 
Silva  a  happy  inspiration !  Wonderful  man !  " 
he  added,  half  to  himself. 

Goldberger  and  Simmonds  went  on  into  the 
inner  room  to  arrange  for  the  disposition  of  the 


336          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

body  of  Mahbub;  but  Godfrey  and  Miss  Vaughan 
and  I  turned  back  together,  for  we  did  not  wish 
to  see  the  Thug.  At  her  boudoir  door  Godfrey 
paused. 

;t  The  case  is  clear,"  he  said,  "  from  first  to  last, 
provided  you  can  supply  us  with  a  final  detail, 
Miss  Vaughan." 

"  What  is  that?  "  she  asked. 

"  Did  you  write  that  note  to  Swain  in  your  own 
room?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  And  will  you  show  me  the  table  at  which  you 
wrote  it?" 

"  Certainly,"  and  she  opened  the  door. 
"  Come  in.  I  wrote  it  at  that  little  desk  by  the 
window." 

Godfrey  walked  to  it,  picked  up  a  blotting-book 
which  lay  upon  it,  and  turned  over  the  leaves. 

"Ah!"  he  said,  after  a  moment.  "I  was 
sure  of  it.  Here  is  the  final  link.  Have  you  a 
small  hand-mirror,  Miss  Vaughan?  " 

She  brought  one  from  her  toilet-table  and 
handed  it  to  him  in  evident  astonishment. 

"  What  do  you  see  in  the  mirror?  "  he  asked, 
and  held  a  page  of  the  blotting-book  at  an  angle  in 
front  of  it. 

Miss  Vaughan  uttered  an  exclamation  of  sur- 
prise, as  she  read  the  words  reflected  there : 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          337 

MR.  FREDERIC  SWAIN, 
IOIO  Fifth  Avenue, 

New  York  City. 
If  not  at  this  address, 
please  try   the   Calumet   Club. 

" '  Tall     oaks     from     little     acorns     grow,'  ' 
quoted  Godfrey,  tossing  the  book  back  upon  the 
desk.     "  But  for  the  fact  that  you  blotted  the  en- 
velope, Miss  Vaughan,  young  Swain  would  never 
have  been  accused  of  murder." 

"  I  do  not  understand,"  she  murmured. 

"  Don't  you  see,"  he  pointed  out,  "  the  one 
question  which  we  have  been  unable  to  answer  up 
to  this  moment  has  been  this :  how  did  Silva  know 
you  were  going  to  meet  Swain?  He  had  to 
know  it,  and  know  it  several  hours  before  the  meet- 
ing, in  order  to  have  those  finger-prints  ready. 
I  concluded,  at  last,  that  there  must  be  a  blotting- 
book  —  and  there  it  is." 

Miss  Vaughan  stared  at  him. 

"  You  seem  to  be  a  very  wonderful  man!  "  she 
said. 

Godfrey  laughed. 

"  It  is  my  every-day  business  to  reconstruct 
mysteries,"  he  said.  "  Shall  I  reconstruct  this 
one?" 

"  Please  do !  "  she  begged,  and  motioned  us  to 
be  seated. 


338          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

Godfrey's  face  was  glowing  with  the  sort  of  cre- 
ative fire  which,  I  imagine,  illumines  the  poet's 
brow  at  the  moment  of  inspiration. 

"Where  did  you  first  meet  Silva?"  he  asked. 

"  In  Paris." 

"  What  was  he  doing  there?  " 

"  He  was  practising  mysticism.  My  father 
went  to  consult  him;  he  was  much  impressed  by 
him,  and  they  became  very  intimate." 

"  And  Silva,  of  course,  at  once  saw  the  possi- 
bilities of  exploiting  an  immensely  rich  old  man, 
whose  mind  was  failing.  So  he  comes  here  as 
his  instructor  in  Orientalism;  he  does  some  very 
marvellous  things;  by  continued  hypnosis,  he  gets 
your  father  completely  under  his  control.  He  se- 
cures a  promise  of  this  estate  and  a  great  en- 
dowment; he  causes  your  father  to  make  a  will  in 
which  these  bequests  are  specifically  stated.  Then 
he  hesitates,  for  during  his  residence  in  this  house, 
a  new  desire  has  been  added  to  the  old  ones.  It 
had  not  often  been  his  fortune  to  be  thrown  in 
daily  contact  with  an  innocent  and  beautiful  girl, 
and  he  ends  by  falling  in  love  with  you.  He 
knows  of  your  love  for  Swain.  He  has  caused 
Swain  to  be  forbidden  the  house;  but  he  finds  you 
still  indifferent.  At  last,  by  means  of  his  own  en- 
treaties and  your  father's,  he  secures  your  consent 
to  become  his  disciple.  He  knows  that,  if  once  you 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          339 

consent  to  sit  with  him,  he  will,  in  the  end,  domi- 
nate your  will,  also. 

"  But  you  ask  for  three  days'  delay,  and  this 
he  grants.  During  every  moment  of  those  three 
days,  he  will  keep  you  under  surveillance.  Al- 
most at  once,  he  guesses  at  your  plan,  for  you  re- 
turn to  the  house,  you  write  a  letter,  and,  the  mo- 
ment you  leave  your  room,  he  enters  it  and  sees 
the  impression  on  the  blotter.  He  follows  you 
into  the  grounds,  he  sees  you  throw  the  letter  over 
the  wall,  and  suspects  that  you  are  calling  Swain 
to  your  aid.  More  than  that,  Lester,"  he  added, 
turning  to  me,  "  he  saw  you  in  the  tree,  and  so 
kept -up  his  midnight  fire-works,  on  the  off-chance 
that  you  might  be  watching!  " 

'Yes;  that  explains  that,  too,"  I  agreed 
thoughtfully. 

"  When  he  realises  that  you  are  asking  your 
lover's  aid,"  Godfrey  continued  to  Miss  Vaughan, 
"  a  fiendish  idea  springs  into  his  mind.  If  Swain 
answers  the  call,  if  he  enters  the  grounds,  he  will 
separate  him  from  you  once  for  all  by  causing  him 
to  be  found  guilty  of  killing  your  father.  He 
hastens  back  to  the  house,  tears  the  leaf  from  the 
album  of  finger-prints  and  prepares  the  rubber 
gloves.  That  night,  he  follows  you  when  you  leave 
the  house;  he  overhears  your  talk  in  the  arbour; 
and  he  finds  that  there  is  another  reason  than  that 


340          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

of  jealousy  why  he  must  act  at  once.  If  your  father 
is  found  to  be  insane,  the  will  drawn  up  only  three 
days  before  will  be  invalid.  Silva  will  lose  every- 
thing—  not  only  you,  but  the  fortune  already 
within  his  grasp. 

"  He  hurries  to  the  house  and  tells  your  father 
of  the  rendezvous.  Your  father  rushes  out  and 
brings  you  back,  after  a  bitter  quarrel  with  Swain, 
which  Silva  has,  of  course,  foreseen.  You  come 
up  to  your  room;  your  father  flings  himself  into 
his  chair  again.  It  is  Silva  who  has  followed  you 
—  who  has  purposely  made  a  noise  in  order 
that  you  might  think  it  was  Swain.  And  he 
carries  in  his  hand  the  blood-soaked  handker- 
chief which  Swain  dropped  when  he  fled  from 
the  arbour. 

"  Up  to  this  point,"  Godfrey  went  on,  more 
slowly,  "everything  is  clear  —  every  detail  fits 
every  other  detail  perfectly.  But,  in  the  next 
step  of  the  tragedy,  one  detail  is  uncertain  — 
whose  hand  was  it  drew  the  cord  around  your 
father's  throat?  I  am  inclined  to  think  it  was 
Mahbub's.  If  Silva  had  done  the  deed,  he  would 
probably  have  chosen  a  method  less  Oriental;  but 
Mahbub,  even  under  hypnotic  suggestion,  would 
kill  only  in  the  way  to  which  he  was  accustomed  — • 
with  a  noose.  Pardon  me,"  he  added,  quickly, 
as  she  shrank  into  her  chair,  "  I  have  forgotten 


THE   GLOVED   HAND          341 

how  repellent  this  must  be  to  you.     I  have  spoken 
brutally." 

"  Please  go  on,"  she  murmured.  "  It  is  right 
that  I  should  hear  it.  I  can  bear  it." 

"  There  is  not  much  more  to  tell,"  said  God- 
frey, gently.  "  Whoever  it  was  that  drew  the 
cord,  it  was  Silva  who  moistened  the  glove  from 
the  blood-soaked  handkerchief,  made  the  marks 
upon  your  father's  robe,  and  then  dropped  the 
handkerchief  beside  his  chair.  Then  he  returned 
softly  to  his  room,  closed  the  door,  put  away  the 
glove,  cleansed  his  hands,  made  sure  that  Mahbub 
was  in  his  closet,  took  his  place  upon  the  divan,  and 
waited.  I  think  we  know  the  rest.  And  now, 
Lester,"  he  added,  turning  to  me,  "  we  would  bet- 
ter be  getting  to  town.  Remember,  Swain  is  still 
in  the  Tombs." 

'  You  are  right,"  I  said,  and  rose  to  take  my 
leave,  but  Miss  Vaughan,  her  eyes  shining,  stopped 
me  with  a  hand  upon  the  sleeve. 

"  I  should  like  to  go  with  you,  Mr.  Lester," 
she  said.  "May  I?" 

The  colour  deepened  in  her  cheeks  as  she  met 
my  gaze,  and  I  understood  what  was  in  her  heart. 
So  did  Godfrey. 

"  I'll  have  my  car  around  in  ten  minutes,"  he 
said,  and  hastened  away. 

"  I  have  only  to  put  on  my  hat,"  said  Miss 


342          THE    GLOVED    HAND 

Vaughan;  and  I  found  her  waiting  for  me  in  the 
library,  when  I  entered  it  after  arranging  with 
Simmonds  and  Goldberger  to  appear  with  me  in 
the  Tombs  court  and  join  me  in  asking  for  Swain's 
release. 

Godfrey's  car  came  up  the  drive  a  moment  later, 
and  we  were  off. 

The  hour  that  followed  was  a  silent  one. 
Godfrey  was  soon  sufficiently  occupied  in  guiding 
the  car  through  the  tangle  of  traffic.  Miss 
Vaughan  leaned  back  in  a  corner  of  the  tonneau 
lost  in  thought.  It  was  just  six  days  since  I  had 
seen  her  first;  but  those  six  days  had  left  their 
mark  upon  her.  Perhaps,  in  time,  happiness 
would  banish  that  shadow  from  her  eyes,  and  that 
tremulousness  from  her  lips.  Every  battle  leaves  its 
mark,  even  on  the  victor;  and  the  battle  she  had 
fought  had  been  a  desperate  one.  But,  as  I  looked 
at  her,  she  seemed  more  complete,  more  desirable 
than  she  had  ever  been;  I  could  only  hope  that 
Swain  would  measure  up  to  her. 

At  last,  we  drew  up  before  the  grey  stone  build- 
ing, whose  barred  windows  and  high  wall  marked 
the  prison. 

"  Here  we  are,"  I  said,  and  helped  her  to 
alight. 

Godfrey  greeted  the  door-keeper  as  an  old 
friend,  and,  after  a  whispered  word,  we  were  al- 


THE    GLOVED    HAND          343 

lowed  to  pass.  A  guard  showed  us  into  a  bare 
waiting-room,  and  Godfrey  hastened  away  to  ex- 
plain our  errand  to  the  warden. 

"  Won't  you  sit  down?  "  I  asked,  but  my  com- 
panion shook  her  head,  with  a  frightened  little 
smile,  and  paced  nervously  up  and  down,  her 
hands  against  her  heart.  How  riotously  it  was 
beating  I  could  guess  —  with  what  hope,  what 
fear.  .  .  . 

There  was  a  quick  step  in  the  corridor,  and 
she  stood  as  if  turned  to  stone. 

Then  the  door  was  flung  open,  and,  with  radi- 
ant face,  she  walked  straight  into  the  outstretched 
arms  of  the  man  who  stood  there.  I  heard  her 
muffled  sob,  as  the  arms  closed  about  her  and  she 
hid  her  face  against  his  shoulder;  then  a  hand 
was  laid  upon  my  sleeve. 

"  Come  along,  Lester,"  said  Godfrey  softly. 
"  This  case  is  ended!  " 


THE    END 


A     000129899     1 


